The morning dawned, warm and hazy like an uncertain cloud. Faye woke up in the room that she had spent the wee hours in, huddled in a ball on top of the bed. There was no sign that Jet had slept there, no masculine scent covering the pillows or the blanket, not so much as an indentation from a solid body. Her eyebrows quirked.

The sound of water washing against the ship was lulling, and she lay still, calmed and soothed by the monotonous churning waves and the wild sound of the wind blowing inland. After several minutes she stirred, practically on her way back to sleep. She couldn't figure out why she felt so drowsy until she realized that there was almost no noise. There was no truck delivering fresh seafood to the building, there were no servers scurrying around on the upper levels trying to set up. There was no Mak, bellowing cheerfully down the hall. There was only the wind and the waves.

She wandered out of the room, still wearing the pajamas. In her desire to find out why things were so peaceful, it completely slipped her mind to take them off. So eventually she made it onto the deck, blinking in the sunlight and wiggling her toes against the hardwood floor. The smell of sea salt was pervasive, filling her nostrils and making her heart pound. It smelled bewitchingly like clean light and cool mist. The lonely cry of seagulls overhead filled her with nostalgia, and she let her head drop back, breathing deeply.

When she exhaled and straightened her back, she finally saw Jet clinging to the wooden dock, waist deep in the water. His hair, moist from the constant spray of the ocean, lay thickly along the nape of his neck. The dark curls that covered the remainder of his body stuck to his glistening skin. As she watched, he let go of the pier and glided into the water backwards, leaving behind a smooth ripple. The air suddenly felt quite hot, despite a constant breeze.

She drifted over to the edge of the deck and slowly crawled over the divider, seating herself on the topmost rail. Her eyes searched for a lean body under the surface of the water. The wind blew her hair in her face and she swatted at it, annoyed.

"I didn't expect you to be up this early," a voice beneath her rumbled.

She was so startled that she lost her balance and pitched forward. Jet sprang up and steadied her, by placing his metal hand firmly against her stomach. She mumbled a quick 'thanks' and hurriedly scooted herself back, holding onto the bars with both hands. He laughed at her sudden coyness. "Don't break your wrists, Faye."

"Do you always go swimming in the morning?" she asked.

"Regularly enough," he answered, pulling himself halfway out of the water and resting himself on the deck the way one would rest against the edge of a pool. "It's very quiet around here this time of morning. Quite relaxing."

"Wouldn't the bay be dirty?"

"They don't allow dumping because they want the natural wildlife to keep living here. The water's so clean, it's like glass. You can see all the way to the ocean floor." He offered her a hand. "Why don't you come in?"

"I don't have a swimsuit."

"Didn't stop me."

Her face flamed at the prospect. "Jet Black, are you proposing that I go skinnydipping?"

"You mean you've never been?" The sun beat against his back, drying the beads of water that slowly trickled down to his…no! "It feels great. The water's warm and the wind feels nice. Come on, hop in."

"I'll be naked! Everyone can look!"

"So who's here to see you, for goodness' sake?" He was right; it was eerily quiet. She could just barely make out voices from several blocks away, but it seemed as though no one at all was around this part of the water. And if anyone were to come, her pajamas were right there.

But I don't want to be naked next to Jet Black!

"Maybe later," she said in a non-committal sort of tone. He shrugged, pushed backwards, and a moment later she heard a "sploosh" and watched as a familiar ripple marred the surface. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes again, making them water. As she fought to remove the silky strands from her tearing eyes, she felt herself fall forward, and in overcorrecting, she went into the bay backwards.

Immediately she noticed that Jet was right, of course. The water was disconcertingly warm, and unnaturally clear. Fish darted away from her as she pushed back towards the surface. She popped out, gasping and furiously pushing her wet hair back from her face. Jet's laughter rang in her ears.

"Told you to get undressed first. Now your nighties are all wet."

"So they are," she snapped. She waded towards the dock as quickly as she could, cheeks burning. The sound of rippling water echoed in her ears, warning her that Jet was right behind her. She scrambled onto the rough, hot wood, stripped off the clothing that was now sticking to her body, and flung the pink lace onto the ground.

Jet came up to the dock to gaze up at the wondrous sight of Faye clad solely in a pair of bikini underwear. His eyes widened appreciatively, but he contented himself with saying, "You should put a rock on top of that stuff so it doesn't blow away."

She shrugged and stared down at her toes. He swam back and made room for her. "Come on in. Surely there's enough room for both of us to swim around."

The invitation seemed reasonable enough, and so, not without some misgivings, she allowed herself to be coaxed back into the bay. The water lapped greedily against her skin, clinging to every curve. The wind vainly attempted to blow her wet hair around, but the damp strands stuck to her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. Jet was charmed. "Wanna race out to the sandbar?"

She mumbled something that he couldn't hear, so he moved a little closer, not noticing how a flush of crimson lit up her cheeks. "Faye, what's wrong?"

"I don't really know how to swim," she said reluctantly.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not kidding."

"Guess you'll have to hop on my back then!" He grabbed her and swung her behind him effortlessly, picked her up by the thighs and wound her legs around his waist. "Hang on!" And before she could find breath enough to protest, they were off.

Jet swam underwater, surfacing only to breathe. This left Faye to cling to his back with her legs and ride in silence as he glided along easily. She wanted to hold his shoulders, but the motion of his strokes didn't make that a promising option and she didn't dare to hold on to anything behind her. She sat up as best she could and made do. Sometimes he swam lower and she sank to the point of submerging, but just as rapidly he would rise to gulp a breath, and she rose along with him, naked torso covered in gooseflesh as the mild breeze struck her wet skin. They reached the sandbar quickly at this rate, and he lowered her onto the formation as he caught his breath.

They were nearly 100 yards from the shore. The ship and its surroundings were in plain view when she turned to the north. But to the south lay a richly dyed expanse of water. No boats sailed on it, and although gulls flew overhead, there was nowhere for them to land. It looked endless and wild, and filled her with wanderlust. It was the urge to be roaming.

The sound of Jet's panting reminded her that she had already stayed two days longer than she had intended to. Was she going to stay just long enough to make him care again, only to leave? It'd be just like old times then, she mused sardonically.

"You ready to go back?"

She nodded and tried to climb on his back again, but he gently wrapped her arms around his neck from the front. "Hold on," he told her as he pushed off and swam backwards.

Her breath stuck in her throat. Was it somehow possible that she was pressed skin to skin with Jet Black in an almost nude state? She looked at his face, but he seemed relaxed, as if he was just out for an early swim and she just happened to be lying on top of him as he did so. If there were anxious feelings about their state, they seemed to be hers alone. His mind was engaged elsewhere.

The sun was warm on her back. With her head lying on his chest, she could feel Jet's heartbeat as it pounded beneath his skin. She closed her eyes and listened to the burble of the waves, the whistling from the wind and a steady, if rapid, pulse.

"Faye," Jet said in a voice strained with exertion. "Don't fall asleep. I don't want to dive for you when you fall off."

She nodded and pushed herself into a sitting position. The ship was much closer now.

He didn't speak again, and shortly afterwards they reached the dock. As she slid off his torso and reached for the ladder, the glint of Jet's metal arm caught her eye. She pointed at it. "I wouldn't think that you could submerge one of those."

"You couldn't. At least, not the model I had before. This is an upgrade, with a sealed circuit box."

"A new arm," she murmured.

"I can feel with it, you know."

"I didn't know."

He reached out for her, running the very tips of his fingers along her arm and making her skin prickle. "You've got goosebumps," he said in a husky voice. "Any reason why?"

Faye stood immobile, trembling. His hand trailed down to her slim wrist before she could find strength to speak. She opened her mouth, but nothing would come out beyond a squeak. He seemed amused.

"Can you feel this?" she finally managed, as she stroked her hand up his arm. It felt warmer than flesh ought to, and so rigid – not the taut strength of muscle and sinew, but the unyielding composition of circuitry and wires. It puzzled her, and she caressed it, trying to understand how this piece of machinery could transmit feeling.

He didn't answer, but the flush that was spreading over his face told her. Suddenly bashful, she let go of him. "Can you teach me how to swim, Jet?"

He grinned at the abruptly chosen topic, and picked her up bodily. "First thing you have to learn to do is float. Don't thrash, now." He held her loosely as she began to panic. "Remember, I'm not going to let you drown, so just listen to me."

She did her best to listen to him, and not the inner turmoil that kept insisting that she was going to sink. Before too long, she felt slightly more confident, and his grip became even more remote. She turned onto her back, noticing with some amusement that the fat in her chest always bobbed to the surface. Jet perceived this as well. Dipping his metallic hand into the water, he slowly spread a handful of liquid over her skin.

Her muscles knotted as her heart thundered against her chest. "Jet – "

"The other hand's beneath your back," he said softly, and it was so. But she wasn't afraid of drowning; she feared what would happen if she allowed him to continue arousing her. And she had been so sure that he felt indifferently!

"Just relax, okay? You're doing fine." His fingers pushed the puddle into beads, and those shining droplets rolled off her stomach and back into the ocean. He picked up another handful of liquid sunlight and swirled it against her belly.

A familiar tingle warned her that her nipples were growing erect. It could hardly be helped, with the wind blowing against her wet skin. But her surprise was nothing less than immense when Jet caught her to him with both hands and in the same motion, closed his mouth over the peak of her breast.

The sound of her own cry woke her up.


Jet was walking slowly in the direction of his room when he heard a moaning sob, a yell, and several incoherent curses, in that order. A rueful grin slowly curled his lips. "Guess someone's awake."


He peeked in the door to see an infuriated Faye pounding hell out of his pillows, and shook his head. Women! Who could understand 'em? He cleared his throat and she turned to look at him, her violet hair messy and damp. Her jade eyes were flashing; her cheeks were smudged with pink. Her lips, for once free of lipstick, were swollen; she had just stopped biting them. One strap of her pajama top had fallen from her shoulder, leaving a red streak against pale skin. Her pants were the obvious victim of a static electricity attack as they adhered to her slim legs.

She was beautiful.

A silly grin broke out on his face, and he lost his train of thought, opting instead to wave to her and murmur, "Good morning," before heading back the other way.

She emerged from the downstairs hold later rather than sooner. Jet had enough time to make coffee and toast and nearly finish reading the paper before she dragged herself upstairs. At the woebegotten expression she had plastered on her face, he could hardly keep from laughing aloud. "What's wrong, Faye?"

She didn't answer, choosing to sear him with a stare. He shrugged and offered her the remainder of the buttered bread and a hot mug. Faye ate ravenously, scattering crumbs in the process and reminding him entirely of a certain red headed girl. "Hey."

She looked up, a smudge of strawberry jam staining her chin. Never before had Jet longed for a Polaroid camera so much. "You wanna do something with me today?"

The expression on her face startled him; it was highly reminiscent of a thundercloud. "It doesn't involve a swim in the bay, does it?"

"What!" He gulped down the rest of his coffee. "Heavens no. Have you seen that bay, woman? It's filthy. I wouldn't dream of swimming in it."

She muttered something that he couldn't hear. Assuming that he wasn't supposed to hear it, he continued, "I was thinking more along the lines of a long drive. And maybe a picnic if you got hungry."

"Sure," she answered, morosely. He shook his head and reached out for the empty plate. "God, Faye. Try not to sound so excited."

She hadn't heard. She was staring, very hard, at his metal hand as he used it to draw the porcelain dish towards himself. "Come on, now. You do remember that I have a metal hand, right?" He flexed it for her benefit.

"Is it waterproof?" she asked gruffly.

"Yeah." His confusion was at an all-time high.

Her fingers extended slowly, grazing the steel tendons. Jet felt his mouth go cottony, and he swallowed nervously. His other hand, which was holding the coffee mug, began to shake.

Faye touched his arm, curiously, shyly. She lifted her gaze, and their eyes locked as she stroked the raised metal once more, twice more. Her voice was no more than a whisper. "Can you feel that?"

"Yeah."

Inexplicably timid again, she withdrew and slipped off the stool, fleeing down the stairs. "I'll be up in a minute."

Jet nodded three times before he realized that she was gone. And he had spilled his coffee all over the bar.


Author's Notes:

Well? Well? Did you folks like the J/F action? Oh wait, it was just a DREAM! --;;; Who hasn't had a dream so wonderful or so moving that you nearly cried when you had to wake up? Anyway, yes, I know that was a very mean tease. But now that it's out of the way, we can move along to the real deal! Chapter title is courtesy of Otis Redding.