***Sorry I'm not updating as quickly as I did for my last story. I wish I could post every two or three days, but between school and work, I'm doing what I can. Hope you enjoy this post, and I'm sure you know the disclaimer.***

Dana took a small sip of coffee and immediately made a face. The Hansen's made it entirely too strong; she normally drank it black, but this stuff was too much for her. With a sigh, she pushed herself away from the table and forced open one of the cabinets to grab a packet of half-and-half. She'd seen Kjiersten tease Jake for using them before the crew went out for their 23 hour grind, so Dana was particularly thankful the crew was asleep.

That was only part of the reason, though. She was still bothered about what had happened earlier. She understood now how a simple, harmless question could set someone off. Norman's reaction about his family's opinion that started her season on the wrong foot had been put in complete perspective now. She'd known going in that she was coming into a very family-oriented boat, but she'd never thought past what that would mean for her to fit in and be accepted. Not once had she considered what the multi-generational crew would actually be like, how they would interact with each other.

Dana was staring blankly at her coffee, watching the creamer swirl as she spun her spoon around and around in the mug, when Norman came in to grab a cup for himself before taking the wheel. He hesitated at first, hanging back in the shadows, but he walked in when he saw that she didn't have her camera. She didn't even glance his way, which was probably a better way to get his attention than anything else. He sent several glances over his shoulder as he poured himself a mug, then slid onto the bench next to her. That snapped her out of her trance, and she snapped her head around to face him.

"Shit," she laughed nervously, "you scared me!"

"Sorry. I do that."

"You're pretty sneaky," she grinned into her coffee, hoping to hide the embarrassed blush spreading across her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

She frowned at him, but he sipped his coffee and ran his thumb along a worn chip in the table. It was nearly impossible to tell if he seriously didn't know why she was apologizing or if he just wanted to make her say it. "For asking about your family. I didn't realize it was off-limits."

He smirked and took a long sip. Then, he put the mug on the table and wrapped his hands around it, staring at the black liquid inside. "It's not off-limits. It was a good question. I just took it the wrong way."

"Can…I ask how?" He glanced at her with raised eyebrows. "And get an answer, I mean."

He chuckled to himself. "Made me think of my wife, 'sall."

She waited for him to say more, but he just stared at his coffee and kept perfectly silent. Dana licked her lips, started to ask something, thought better of it, took a sip, put her mug down, and tried again. "That's a bad thing?"

"Not usually." He fell silent again. Just as she decided not to push the subject, he leaned back against the wall and grunted in that way people have when they're about to talk. "It's been a long time, you know. I'm normally fine. Sometimes things just make me think of her, how she'd be now, what she'd do, and I don't…handle it as well as I should."

"When did you two split up?"

Norman raised his eyebrows and finally turned to look at her. "Spli…" he stopped and fought to contain his smile, but failed. "Split up?" She looked around to see what joke she'd missed. "Hanna and I didn't split up."

"So…wait…I'm confused. What happened?"

He sobered at that and took another long drink of coffee. "She died. Car accident. Kjiersten was 5."

Dana was quiet for a minute. She never was good with situations like this. "Oh. I'm sorry, Norman. No one told me. I wouldn't have asked if…"

"It's fine," he waved her off. "I think I made up for it earlier. Right?"

"Excuse me?" she leaned back, but, of course, that did nothing to help her escape the patient look he was giving her. "You didn't startle me that badly, really."

"Not that," he half-smiled. "On deck. When I asked if you had kids."

"Oh…" she turned back to her mug and let a strand of hair fall between the two of them. It wasn't much, but that section of hair felt like a wall that could protect her from whatever he would send next. "Yeah. I…didn't really expect that. Your daughter's really something, you know? You can tell exactly where she came from, looks and personality."

"Yeah, she's the best thing in my life," he nodded. "Wait 'til you see her with her friends. Her and Josh in the same room…Harris, I mean…she's a spitfire. What's your story?"

"Who says I have a story?"

"Everyone has a story. You know about my wife. I've got a few more minutes before I go on wheel watch; if you want to tell me about you, well, I'm pretty good at listening."

Dana smiled at the last comment, but it was halfhearted and faded easily. "I never had any kids. I was married for a while, but it didn't work out. Certainly never would want to bring kids into that, you know? Too much fighting. But, uh, we thought about it. What couple doesn't, right? We tried for…so long. The doctor's said it was something like 1 in a 1000 odds that I could ever conceive."

Most people would have prompted her forward when she fell silent, but not Norman. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he took a long sip of coffee but stayed completely quiet.

"So…yeah…I mean, any solid couple, no problem." She twirled her mug absently. "Not us. We couldn't hold it together after that." Norman nodded slowly. "You never ask questions."

"Do you want me to?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's a good thing. Just…anyone else would ask what happened."

"You'll tell me if you want to," he shrugged, pushing himself to his feet so he could wash his mug out. She waited for more but, of course, nothing came.

"Are you always this quiet?"

"No." Nothing else.

"When aren't you?" she probed, feeling the corner of her mouth tilt up of its own accord.

He shrugged and grabbed a towel to dry with. "I have my moments. Kjiersten's normally involved somehow."

"I can't imagine that. You're, like, the perfect family." That made him laugh.

"No. We're not. We're far from that."

"Well," Dana leaned back against the wall, "you're better than my attempt at a marriage, that's for sure." She fell silent for a moment, then added softly, "Not that a shitty husband is the same as having a kid."

"Can't really call her a kid anymore." Dana frowned at him. "Whether you want 'em to or not, they grow up. That's part of the problem sometimes, why KJ and I fight. I still see that little girl I was trying to bring up, keep forgetting she's 24 and can do it all on her own. She didn't have a mom; of course she grew up faster than she should. She had to. But when you forget that and try to treat them like kids…"

"They fight back," Dana finished. "Sucks, don't it?"

Norman chuckled. "Yeah. But at least there's someone to fight with. You have anyone now?"

"Now? I don't have much. Some friends and all, but not much family to speak of. A sister and in Fort Lauderdale, and my mom's in a nursing home near them. My family's not like you guys; we never needed to be that close."

Norman shrugged. "F'you say so. I've gotta go take the wheel."

She nodded at his retreating back until he disappeared up the stairs. In a few minutes, Sig would lumber down to get some food before heading to bed. It would take some time, though; Sig had to explain their course, and they had to have one of their brotherly chats consisting of a lot of grunting and short sentences.

She sat for a moment more, then pushed herself up, washed her mug, dried it, and put it away. As soon as she closed the cabinet, she spotted Norman's on the counter, which made her chuckle as she put that away, too. She was gone from the galley long before Sig came down, attempting to sleep away the weird feeling growing in the pit of her stomach ever since Norman sat down next to her.