Chapter 26: The Other Sort of Escort

Sammy B Roberts sat on the polished stone bench in the middle of the bath house and scuffed her bare feet against the slick tile. Her hands were shoved firmly into the pockets of her oversized Marine duty jacket as she stared at her own faint reflection.

Arizona was busy getting White settled in the docks, and she could hear her friends from Samar—the three indomitable Fletcher-class destroyers—rough housing with after-battle jitters as they showered off. But not her.

Sammy bit her lip, looking at the clock as she sat in the dressing room. She wasn't… like them.

In spite of her reputation, Sammy wasn't a fighting ship, she was an escort! She was built to scare away submarines and the odd aircraft. When Johnston and the others launched into battle, she just tagged along. She knew the outcome was doubtful, but… but she was going to do her duty.

She was an escort. An Escort never goes looking for trouble, lest she leave her charges undefended. An escort looks after her charges, she makes sure they're safe and comfortable.

Sammy sniffed, brushing a strand of salty hair out of her face as she glanced at the clock again. An escort looks after her charges, and there was still one ship left. Sammy couldn't rest until everyone was home safe.

"Uh," she slipped off the bench, her toes curling up against the chilly tile. "Uh, Miss Jersey?"

A pause. Sammy rocked on her heels, clasping her hands expectantly behind her back as she stared at the dressing room door. One Mississippi… two Mississippi… Hmm, Mississippi was at Leyte Gulf too, over at Surigao Straight. Sammy made a mental note to ask Jersey how that turned out.

Before the little destroyer escort could let her train of thought get any more derailed, the towering form of her flagship slumped though the door. "Hey, kiddo," mumbled Jersey, offering her a horribly weak smile.

"Hey, Skipper!" said Sammy, running over to offer herself as a make-shift support for the battleship. "What's that?" she asked, poking at the bundle of wadded up cloth clenched in Jersey's fist.

"Swimsuit," said Jersey, wincing as she threw her shoulders back, holding her head high as she walked to the shower room with as much grace as she could muster. "Kongou… she lent me one of hers."

"Oh," Sammy nodded. "Miss Naka, uh, gave me one too," she said, nuzzling closer to Jersey's charred thigh and holding onto her waist to keep the battleship upright.

"Uh… Kiddo?" Jersey managed a weak smile.

"'m helping," muttered Sammy, very gingerly stepping into the recessed shower area. She glanced back and forth from Jersey's feet to hers, carefully guiding the wounded battleship across the two-inch step.

Jersey shook her head, propping herself up against the tile with one hand so she could ruffle Sammy's hair with the other. "You really wanna help?"

Sammy nodded enthusiastically.

"Help me get these clothes off," said Jersey, gingerly setting herself down on a bench to unlace her shoes. "And not a word to Johnston."

"Mmhm!" said Sammy, darting over to help peel Jersey's tattered shirt off. It was easier than she'd expected, the puddles of dried blood and sticky black oil were really the only things keeping it on.

Jersey winced, sucking in a sharp intake of breath as the destroyer escort peeled her shirt back. The charred-black top-layer of her skin came with it, leaving bare flesh that was shiny and raw.

"Skipper?" Sammy let out a tiny moan. She hated seeing her skipper this badly wounded! Hated it!

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," hissed Jersey, breathing though clenched teeth as the cool air kissed her bare skin. "Just keep going."

Sammy nodded, peeling the battleship's ruined shirt and vest the rest of the way off and tossing the charred clothing into the corner. She'd deal with it later. Jersey's shorts came next, but the fabric was so soaked-though with blood they practically disintegrated in Sammy's hands. And next… next was…

"Sammy?" Jersey glanced over, trying to see the little destroyer escort with her one good eye. "Why'd you stop."

"I… uh…" Sammy wrung her hands, "It's… I just have to take off your… uh…" she trailed off, giving Jersey a pitiful stare.

"You can say bra, Sammy," said Jersey, cracking a faint glimmer of a smile.

"Don't wanna."

"Just… just cut it off," said Jersey, "And then go start the shower, hmm?"

Sammy pursed her lips, staring transfixed at the battleship's muscular back. With all the charring—and most of her clothes—gone, Sammy could see just how toned her skipper was. Only the the navy-blue fabric of the woman's sports bra kept the battleship decent, and Sammy was supposed to just cut it off.

This felt wrong. So so so so wrong. "You… you sure, skipper?" she asked, nervously toying with the surgical scissors she'd grabbed from her medbay.

"Don't worry, kiddo," said Jersey.

"O… okay," Sammy slipped the scissors under the band of Jersey's bra. The battleship winced as cold steel touched her raw skin, but Sammy forced herself to soldier on.

Snip, snip, snip snip, she carefully cut along the battleship's spine, closing her eyes as she made the final cut. "Okay," she said, holding her hands out in front of her. "I will find… the shower."

Sammy shuffled to the side, running on nothing more than her compass and her memory of the room. Dead reckoning navigation, like the olden days. By her count, three more steps should take her to-

"Kiddo!"

Sammy felt her nose flatten against slick tile. "A wall!" she said, waving her hands around in search of a shower head.

"Sammy," Jersey's voice cracked into a pitifully weak laugh. "Kiddo… it's okay, I'm decent."

"Y-you are?" said Sammy, risking a brief glance over her shoulder.

Jersey smiled back, one arm held across her chest to cover her…self. Sammy couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was, even hurt like this. Her skipper was the most beautiful-est battleship on the planet! "Just get the water going, hmm?"

"Mmhm!" Sammy flung the taps wide open with all her might, sending a deluge of hot salt water pouring from the polished chrome shower. Once she was content the water was the perfect level of warm, she darted back to her topless skipper, slipping a hand around her waist to help her over.

Jersey let out a sigh of pure pleasure as the salt water poured over her wounds and washed away the crust of dried blood and oil covering her body. "Oh… oh that feels so good," she said, smiling as water poured off her chin.

Sammy smiled, bouncing on her heels as she waited for her skipper to finish cleaning off. And then her face slipped into mortified horror when Jersey started scooching her hips side to side, slipping off her navy blue… Oh my…

—|—|—

A tiny squeal of surprise echoed though the docks, interrupting the taffies silent vigil over their wounded carrier friend.

Johnston was the first to react, her shoes squeaking against the poolside tile as she spun in place, "What was that?"

"What?" said Hoel.

"That noise," said Johnston.

"I think it came from the showers," added Heermann.

"It sounded like Sammy," said Hoel, scratching at her gun belt.

"Should we check?" asked Johnston.

"Arizona told us not to," said Hoel, "She said… she said we should give Jersey privacy."

"But what if Jersey needs help?" said Heermann.

"Sammy's with her," said Johnston, glancing back to the escort carrier sleeping in a bubbling hot tub. "Our place is here."

Hoel sighed, "Yeah… yeah it is."

"We're not leaving White," Heermann agreed.

—|—|—

Jersey panted as she slouched against the shower room wall. The swim top Kongou had lent her fit rather well—after she'd criss-crossed the straps to take up some of the slack. Normally, she might be a little miffed that Kongou—a battleship twenty-six-thousand tons her junior—filled out a swimsuit better than she did.

But today, she was just frustrated that the damn bottoms weren't fitting over her damn thighs.

"S-skipper, you sure you don't want me to help?" said Sammy, her face still resolutely buried in her hands.

"You still going to do it with your eyes closed?" said Jersey, wincing at the painful memory.

"Mmhm."

"Then no," said Jersey, biting her lip as she stared down the scant bit of red-trimmed white fabric. She was a damn battleship, oceans quaked when she spoke, and nations folded before her guns… she could out-think a damn swimsuit.

"Fuck it," she scowled, grabbing both sides and tugging with all her strength. The fabric dragged painfully across her raw skin, running the blockade of her legs and settling around her hips. "Being a girl is so much work."

"C-can I look now?" said Sammy.

"Yes… yes you can," said Jersey, tugging at her top to make certain she was decent enough for the destroyer escort.

Apparently she was. Sammy's face glowed with pride, and she smiled up at the battleship. "You look better already!" she said, skipping off towards the docks proper.

"Not so fast," said Jersey with a scowl, her exhausted gait little more than a shuffle as she followed. Her skin was still damp from her salt water shower, but the wounds were starting to smart again. Her wet footsteps were tinged a grimy pink as blood and oil slowly seeped from the worst of her wounds.

"Officer on deck!" barked… barked Johnston of all people. The destroyer was standing at rigid attention, her hand held up to her brow and her eyes slammed shut. "I… think."

The other two taffies and Sammy snapped to, holding their little chins high as Jersey slowly made her way to the bath. "Kids… you don't have to-"

"We want to," said Johnston.

"You earned it," said Heermann.

"Thanks, kiddos," said Jersey, sliding into the frothing water. She let out a long sigh as the sweet-smelling salt water caressed her wounds, soaking into down to her keel.

"Any time, Skipper," said Sammy.

"What she said," said Heermann.

"Now sleep well," said Hoel.

Johnston didn't say anything. She just bit her lip and gave Jersey a nod, her eyes very pointedly staying away from any… area that might be considered even remotely lewd.

White curled up next to the battleship, mumbling something in her sleep as she snuggled up tight.

Jersey closed her eyes, sleep taking her with a smile on her face.