an: so I'm going through cycles with my writing, I guess? The last chapter of castaways took forever to write, and this one practically wrote itself. as always, thanks a million for the reviews, faves & follows, I really appreciate it.

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seal my heart (and break my pride)

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Dylan shades his eyes against the glare of the sun, his eyes taking in the miles of ocean before him. The pontoon sways underneath them, and he shifts to keep his balance, before checking to see how Kate is doing. She's staring out into the sea, but hasn't said anything beyond her earlier question. Reassured, he continues to look around, his countenance brightening when he spies land. It's a bit far, but he thinks they can make it.

When Kate disagrees, he frowns. It's only a couple of miles at most – she should be able to swim that, even if it is a bit of a struggle. He decides to put it aside for now. His gut is telling him to stay with her, but his head is telling him that he needs to go for help – they have no water, no way of contacting anyone. They're sitting ducks, out here in open water, – and that's precisely why he doesn't want to leave her alone.

"Dutchy, I won't make it."

He looks at the expanse of water, and then back at her. "Alright. As soon as I reach land, I'll raise the alarm." He takes off his boots and t-shirt, and gives her one last look before he dives into the water. He cuts through the water quickly, and he's made it quite far before he hears the powerful thrum of an engine approaching. He stops and turns back, relief filling him as he sees the boat. Starting to swim back to the pontoon, he looks up to see Sergeant Booker mooring his boat to the pontoon. At least it was someone they knew – Kate could give him a head's up on the grog runners while they waited for Dylan.

It's not till he lifts his head to take another breath that he sees the gun. Nausea churns in his gut, and instantly, he's filled with recrimination. He should never have left her alone. He powers through the water, trying to get back as soon as possible. Kate must see him coming, because she manoeuvres him so that his back is turned to Dylan. He can get angry about that later, he thinks as he climbs onto the boat. He has only moments to put together a plan, but when the cop lifts the gun and grabs her, he moves, yelling out as he tackles him into the water. The gun goes off in the struggle, before they surface, and Booker's pained yell fills the air. Dutchy takes a glancing blow to the side, and hits back, knocking the older man out.

"Dutchy, thank god!" Kate says, kneeling on the pontoon. "Are you alright?"

He's breathing heavily, but he smiles up at her, relieved that she's okay. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replies, closing the distance to the pontoon, dragging Booker behind him. "Here, I'll push him up if you can drag him the rest of the way," he waits till she's hooked her hands around Booker's arms before he pushes him, leveraging himself against the pontoon. "Careful, he's a heavy bastard."

Dylan pulls himself up onto the pontoon. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think we've done this dance before," she says, but she's smiling, so he doesn't think she's too mad.

He looks down at Booker, disgust on his face. The man is a disgrace to the uniform, and to the job. He leans down to check the bullet wound. It's bleeding, but it's sluggish – he'll live. He shakes Booker – he hadn't hit the man that hard, so he should be coming to soon.

"I'll radio Hammersley," Kate says, as she moves past. "How's he doing?"

"He'll live," Dylan says. He gives Booker a quick pat down, making sure he doesn't have any weapons, before he moves away.

Kate jumps back onto the pontoon, shading her eyes. "The Hammersley's still another hour out."

Dylan sits down on the edge, dragging his feet through the water. "Water's nice," he says, giving Kate a sideways glance.

She rolls her eyes, but gamely takes off her boots and socks, before rolling her pants up. She puts her feet in without testing the water and gives a small shriek. "Dutchy, that's freezing!" She laughs, and gives him a little shove, though she leaves her feet in.

"C'mon X, it's not that bad." He leans back on his hands, enjoys the feeling of the sun on his face. Eventually they're going to have to talk about what he's said (she's really not the type to let things go, he's found), but for now, he's okay with the silence.

Minutes later, she pulls her feet out. "Too cold," she says, standing up. Dylan shrugs, and stands up as well, stretching out the kinks in his back. He's still bruised up, though the sun is warm enough that the heat is nice. He eyes the spot where Booker is still lying. As if sensing his gaze, Booker groans then, coming to. Kate looks over as well, and then sighs. "You might want to put pressure on that wound," she says, giving Dylan a look.

Okay, he could have maybe tied something around it, but it hadn't been bleeding that much when he'd checked it. "Here," he starts, helping Booker up. "If you're on this level, you can lean against the side." It'll give him a bit more leverage, anyway.

They leave him to his own devices, and sit down on the edge away from the boat. The pontoon rocks gently in the waves, and he can see Kate bask in the sun from the corner of his eye.

"So we gonna talk about it?" She asks him, her voice soft.

"Do I have a choice?" He replies, but he's not mad at her for asking.

He can feel her looking at him, so he turns to meet her gaze. "It doesn't have to be with me – but you need to talk to someone, Dutchy. It'll end up eating you alive, otherwise."

He's silent in the face of her compassion. How can she be so damn noble? He'd almost gotten her killed because he hadn't dealt with shit, and she's still focused on making him feel better. He looks back at the water, letting the glare from the sun fill his gaze. It's easier if he doesn't have to look at her, if he doesn't have to see the disgust on her face. Haltingly, he starts to talk.

"It was meant to be his last shift. Andy – the boardo – he was due to fly back home. His wife was pregnant, their third kid, and he'd missed the first two births already – she'd have killed him if he missed this one, he always said. Three more hours, that's all he had left." He pauses, his voice thick. "Then the nav picks up this boat on the radar – no transponder, not responding to our calls. The boss makes the call to board – and Andy wasn't the type to shirk."

Kate doesn't respond, but does reach out and place a hand over his arm. The brief contact steadies him, let's him continue. "We'd cleared and secured the upper decks and the wheelhouse. Then he heard something below decks, in the hold. We followed him in, and then all of a sudden, he has a knife to his neck, and I," he closes his eyes, the image playing out in his head. "I took the shot, I swear I did, but I was too late. I couldn't save him – and then he was bleeding out all over the floor, and I knew he wasn't going to be there for this kid either."

His fingers clench against the metal sides of the pontoon. "And it was my fault," he grits out. Now she knows, now she knows why she shouldn't trust him to keep her safe, why she shouldn't follow his lead when it comes to things like this. It'll only end up in her getting hurt. "Just like it was on the boat a couple of days ago. RO was right – I did freeze, I am a coward. Worse, because it wasn't just my life on the line – it was yours."

"Dutchy, look at me." He's stunned when he feels her hand on his face, turning him to face her. She's let him go, but he can still feel the ghost of her touch. "It wasn't your fault. I wasn't there in the Gulf, so I'm going to have to take the word of those six sailors who said that you saved their lives, Dutchy. You saved their lives," she emphasizes, and he can almost believe her. "And as for what happened a couple of days ago – maybe you did freeze."

His heart drops. This is it. This is where she tells him that he's right.

"Dutchy, even if you froze, it was only for a moment. That's all." She smiles at him and he does not understand. Doesn't she realize that she could have died? "It could have been any one of us in that position. RO doesn't get to call you a coward Dutchy, not when he wasn't in that position." She sighs, and turns back to look out over the water. "You asked me what I thought, of the call you made."

He winces. That had been a pretty shit move, he'd admit.

"I would have made the same call, Dutchy." She shifts back to him, her eyes steady. "Hands down. I wouldn't have risked it, not when someone's life was at stake."

"X – I – I don't understand," he finally says.

"You made the right call, Dutchy. You saved my life in that hold." She rolls her eyes. "And you've tried to protect me since you've stepped onto the Hammersley, even when I didn't always need it. Or appreciate it," she adds, almost as an afterthought.

"It's not that I think you're weak, or that you can't do your job," he offers. "It's just – you're so small," he blurts. "Andy was built – taller than me, and twice my size. And this guy still got the drop on him."

She doesn't say anything, merely looks at him with a brow raised. "I know you can do your job, and I know that you said that you're not intimidated easily – it's just that sometimes – "

"Dutchy, I don't mind help. You're meant to be my buffer, my second-in-command, right? I trust you to have my back – I just need you to trust that I know when to ask for help."

He blinks. When she puts it like that … "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." At her incredulous look, he shrugs. "I'll try, anyway." He looks at her, a little more seriously. "I can't say it'll happen overnight, X, but I'll make the effort."

"Oka – no, we're not doing that again," she cuts herself off with a small laugh.

They sit in silence, and he feels like they're both comfortable in each other's presence for the first time since they'd met.

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He's just about to finish his reports, after sending Bird off, when he looks up to see RO standing by the door. Dylan raises a brow, pulling away from the keyboard. "There a problem, RO?"

"I just don't get it," the younger sailor says. Dylan doesn't respond, just waits him out. "The X went to bat for you – again," RO continues. "The boss wanted you up on charges, and the X took the heat. Said it was her idea to follow the truck."

Dylan frowns. He'd been expecting the rip, but hadn't realized that Kate had stepped in. "What do you mean?"

"Said that she didn't think charges were warranted, in this case." RO frowns. "I know you've had a problem with her since you came on board, and I don't know why. But you froze, you almost got her killed, and she still trusts you."

Dylan flinches imperceptibly. RO's not telling him anything he doesn't already know.

"She's a good XO. Probably the best we've had on board." RO pauses. "More than that, she's a good person."

"What are you trying to say, RO?" Dylan's had it with cryptic conversations.

RO starts to reply, but is interrupted by the boss's voice on the tannoy, calling RO to the bridge. He shakes his head, and leaves Dylan behind, once again stuck in his thoughts.

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The next morning, they dock back at Cairns. He hasn't slept much, keeps going over the last few days in his head. He's avoided Kate where he can, not sure what to say to her, now that RO's thrown him into a tailspin again. So of course, because life likes to fuck with him, she's standing on the dock when he leaves the Hammersley.

"Ma'am."

"Dutchy," she calls out, and he can't help but turn to meet her gaze. "You weren't responsible for what happened in the Gulf, you saved the lives of six sailors on that boarding."

"I know that," he bites out, not even sure why he's suddenly angry. They'd discussed this while on that pontoon yesterday. He's still at fault for what happened to her on that boarding, the reason for the cut that still mars her neck, and everyone on the crew knows it.

"And yesterday you saved my life," she adds. He inhales sharply. How does she do this? How does she always know where to poke and prod to get her answers? She holds up his medal. "I made 2Dads go for a swim."

He smiles, small and unnoticeable as it is. He reaches out for the medal, but she holds onto it for a moment longer. "You earned that – never forget," she says, letting go. He looks down at the medal in his hand, and for the first time, he feels like maybe he wasn't unworthy of it. "So now maybe you'll talk to me a bit more every now and then, hey?" She walks off, and he can't help but turn to watch her walk away.

"X," he calls, waits for her to look back. "Thanks," he says. He doesn't add - for being you, for understanding, for forgiving, for giving him a chance, even as he thinks it. He looks back down at the medal, before turning back to look at the Hammersley, and the ocean behind the ship. His fingers curl around the medal, and for a moment he's tempted to throw it back in – instead, he carefully pins it to his uniform, and finally, finally, feels the ever-present heavy weight of guilt lift from his shoulders.

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