Chapter 3

Noah:

"Port! I definitely know we're pulling into port tomorrow. I have a good feeling!" Noah said happily, excitedly, throwing himself across Blue's lap as she was finishing up her paperwork. "I haven't been this excited about something since I found that snow globe full of glitter with Ronan."

Blue glanced down at him, registering that he was there, but not really seeing him. Her fingers continued to tap away at the key board even as her eyes remained on him. Jabbing at the enter button more times than necessary, she checked over what she'd been working on, presumably for mistakes, before turning her attention to him. "I don't think you're supposed to be down here. Don't you have an aircraft to go fuel or something? I'm sure Lid really needs your help."

He narrowed his eyes, squinting at her. "That was mean. You know how many problems Lid gives us."

"Yes, well, this is my work center, and all of my chitlens are looking at us like we have three heads. Speaking of chitlens, whoever is playing this crap better turn it off now, or I will confiscate all phones until the end of shift." The thrum of vulgar music that even Ronan would frown at immediately changed, turning dainty and instrumental. "Better." She smiled down at him in her lap. "And I've missed you, Noah, I really have, but I do have to ask, how did you get in here?"

Noah shrugged noncommittally, still lying across her lap. "I'm still a ghost. I never really came back." He plucked self-deprecatingly at the purple float coat he wore over his yellow jersey. "It's how I get away with this."

Blue smoothed his hair from his forehead before shooing him off of her lap, and standing. "I was wondering about that the other night. Let's take a walk, Noah." The boat rocked violently beneath them, unusual for such a large ship, and they stumbled against each other as they pushed into the passageway. They moved carefully towards the hatch leading to the catwalk, clutching at the bulkhead for purchase. "Have you talked to any of the others yet? We're all here."

"Just Adam and Ronan."

Grimacing, Blue shoved all of her weight against the hatch. It slammed open, ripped from her fingers by a wind fiercer than she'd felt so far as they stepped out. Jerseys streaked passed them, only a blur of color as they stood in the small alcove, sheltered from the absolute downpour. Lightning flashed against the pitch sky. "This is not good. The alert is going to get launched tonight," she murmured under her breath, then turning her attention back to him, "How did it go? With Adam?"

"Okay. He didn't punch me," Noah said emphatically, "He doesn't forgive me, obviously, but he didn't hit me. How do you know the alert is going to be launched?" He silently hoped the sudden switch in topic would startle the answer from her. If there was one thing he missed about being dead, it was the omnipresent knowledge he'd always seemed to have about his friends.

It did not, in fact, even phase her. She continued on as if he hadn't asked a question. "That's good. It's progress. I remember him after... well, after. We were all pretty messed up from it, but he was worse, what with everything that happened with Ronan." She watched the streaks of colors from running flight deck personnel with disinterest. "I just know, Noah. Nothing good ever follows a storm this bad."

Before he could respond, a voice roared over the 5MC. "The flight deck, catwalks, and weather decks are secured! All aircraft have been diverted to the beach! If your aircraft, equipment, and lives are not secured for heavy weather, there is no turning back now! The flight deck, catwalks, and weather decks are secured!"

Glancing at each other, they flitted back into the skin of the ship.

Ronan:

Ronan raked his nails over his scalp, all concentration fleeing him as he thought of Adam, bedridden with sea sickness and miserable beyond belief. He couldn't be there to help him, not when he had work to do, and alerts to set, and he really wished he had a second supervisor so he could pass everything off to them and simply be with Adam.

The storm still raged outside though, making it impossible to do anything with their aircraft on deck. So, maybe, just maybe, he could shove everything onto his most senior PC and disappear into Adam's compartment for the duration of the storm.

His trainees and PCs squealed happily as they rolled across the shop, their hands thrown above their heads as they crashed into each other. He scrabbled for the edge of the desk, determined to remain stationary. His attempts were in futile, and he went careening towards the opposite walls with all of the others. He crashed into them with a snarl. They laughed uproariously.

The phone began to ring.

"Whoever has the fucking phone, answer it!" Ronan shouted, pitching forward as he stood and the ship listed again. He was plowed over in the ensuing rush of rolling chairs, landing across the laps of his trainees. "Mother of everything under the sun," he snarled. They slammed into his desk, and he snatched for the phone as they began to roll again. "Raven power-line, Lynch-Parrish speaking, how may I help you sir or ma'am?" His voice was less than pleasant as he rattled off the command accepted greeting.

The silence of impatient waiting greeted his ears. Ronan waited with them. It took only a moment for the other participant to break. "What was wrong with that, Mr. Lynch?"

"I don't know, what was wrong with my greeting, Chief? Actually, what was wrong with yours, Chief?" Ronan spat insolently.

A slow intake of breath. A slower exhale. "This is what I get for being a little shit as a third," he muttered under his breath. "Fine, whatever, Lynch. There's nothing we can do until this storm passes. Just keep the line shack on hand in case they call for a working party. After the flight deck is unsecured, get started on a daily for 619."

"Sure thing, Chief." Turning to his shop, he called, "Chief says not to answer the phone for the rest of the night. We're not going to be able to do any more work." He turned back to the phone. He could nearly feel the animosity leeching through the line, hear the grinding of teeth. "Anything else, Chief?"

"Lynch, you better answer the-"

Ronan cut the man off before he could finish his statement, "My name is Lynch-Parrish, not just Lynch. Don't insult my husband by thinking you're familiar enough to just use one of my surnames, Chief." Not waiting for a response, he ended the call, standing from the laps of the pair he was lying across. He left the phone in their laps. "I'm leaving. Don't burn the place down. I'll be back to check tools later."

One of the pair wiggled his brows at him. "Pretty snarky there. Are you going to warm Mr. Lynch-Parrish's bed?"

Ronan blinked at him lethargically. "No, he's sick. I'm going to play nurse maid." He paused at the door, turning back to his airman. "Also, get your own sex life." He slammed the door closed before the phone could be chucked at him.

Adam:

Adam groaned miserably from his rack, a plastic bag tied to the metal rod above him. He hadn't needed it to that point, but his stomach was rolling as much as the ship. From what the others had told him, his fever had already spiked, maintaining its high reading, and he'd already started hallucinating. Who knew sea sickness could cause you to hallucinate? It was like having double dragon, except with less of the involuntary bodily functions.

The last time he'd been checked up on, he'd wished it had been Ronan. No matter what he was sick with, Ronan's presence alone made every bit of it better. Quietly, he resented the fact that they were in berthings only a few compartments over from each other.

Without warning, his curtains flew open. He squinted at the figure shoving him further into his rack, closing the curtains behind him.

He smiled stupidly despite the ache of his body, reaching for the newcomer. "I was just thinking about you, Ronan," he murmured.

Ronan shoved a handful of crackers into his hand, waiting until he obediently, yet reluctantly, swallowed them down, then handed him a bottle of water. "You need to stay hydrated."

"This is really illegal. We've never done this before," Adam whispered, laughter on the edge of his words, "Are you a hallucination?"

"Ask me again when you're fever has broken." Lying down beside him, he pulled Adam into his chest.

Adam fell asleep to the familiar rhythm of Ronan's heart.

Blue:

Blue dragged her eyes open slowly. The boat rocked beneath her, lulling her in and out of sleep. Rain slicked down the cabin door windows, dripping slowly from the drain holes in the drip pan above her, not as hard as earlier in the night. The storm had quieted enormously. Pitch black pressed in at her eyes. No lights in the cabin with her, no lights out on the flight deck. Her radio rested on her breast bone, crackling in and out of life, a heavy weight compared to the wands that were laid across her abdomen.

There was someone approaching the helicopter.

Easy, sloshing steps tapped across the nonskid towards her. A quiet aura was attached to them, mostly grey, kind of a lot of different colors around the edges. It was the quietest she'd heard since learning to turn her mirror on herself, and reflect off the psychics around her. Being on the carrier, there were a million and one citizens, and a larger percentage of them than you might imagine had some splinter of psychic ability, so there was no shortage.

She allowed her eyes to slip closed again, basking in the relief of such a muted aura. There were so many loud, obnoxious auras in their small city that there was always a constant buzz between her ears.

It was nearly silenced now.

The cabin door slid open. The newcomer swore quietly under his breath, stepping back in surprise. "Jane? What are you doing out here by yourself? You're getting dripped on."

Blue blinked up into the dark shadow of Gansey's face. "I should be asking you that. Turnover isn't until shift end. We've still got four more hours to go. How did you know it was me?"

He was silent for a moment, simply staring at her, her staring back, rain dripping onto his flight suit with quiet patters. "I always know when it's you," he murmured, crawling into the cabin beside her and sliding the door closed. He lay down, folding his hands over his stomach, mimicking her position without needing the guiding eye of light. "I've missed you. I lost something fundamental to my being when we all split apart, but most of all when you left."

An unconscious smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "You're so cheesy." She sighed, rolling her head towards him. "But if you must know, I felt the same. These passed two years... they've not been something I want to relive." She stared at him for a long moment, only able to see the outline of his nose, his mouth, his throat. "Why are you out here?"

"We're turning over early. One of the pilots suddenly started puking, and... they were asking a lot of questions I don't have the strength to answer right now."

"What questions?"

"Questions about my mother, how she started out, my childhood. Then it turned to questions of... of Glendower, and... I couldn't. The only four who know the whole story are you four, and I don't particularly enjoy covering up every amazing detail all the time."

Blue turned her head back to the ceiling in time for a water drop to ping against her forehead. She was still for a long moment, blinking away the shock. "We're still looking for the Fountain of Youth, right?"

"Yes, when we pull in to Spain."

"...you know that the Fountain of Youth was never said to be in Spain, right? It was supposedly found in the Caribbean. There is definitely an ocean between those two places."

Gansey laughed good-naturedly. "Yes, I know that, thank you, Blue. Spain is just the first place we're stopping since I've gotten here. I don't think it'll hurt to look for information though. It is where Juan Ponce de Leon came from after all. There's a possibility he left some clue behind."

Blue hummed quietly. She choked, icy cold wrapping around her limbs, her throat. Sitting bolt upright, she scrambled for her cranial. "Get out! Get out! Someone's fallen overboard," she gasped, fumbling for the cabin door in time to hear the ship's horn blast 3 consecutive times, and the 5MC burst to life.

'Man overboard! Man overboard! This is not a drill! Chargers, get your alert in the air! Launch the alert 15! Man overboard!'

Gansey:

"Gooooooooooood morning, Team Shogun!"

Gansey groaned loudly, turning to face the wall as he slammed a pillow over his head. He hated the man, hated the man's voice, hated what he stood for, and Gansey rarely genuinely hated anything. The XO's voice though, that game show host announcer's shout... that was something he could absolutely go without for years and never think back on fondly.

His eyes burned from the long night. It had taken them hours, almost till shift change, to find the sailor. When they ha found them, they were blue in the lips, their limbs stiff with the onset of hypothermia. 'Thank you,' they had whispered, 'Thank you.' Each time his eyes slipped closed, the only thing Gansey could see was they sailor's chest going still, hear his aircrew scrambling frantically to revive him.

The officer above him sobbed comically into the din. "Why can't he just shut up for one day? How have these sailors not jumped overboard yet?" he mewled petulantly, slamming his fist into the covers like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"Shut up, and just throw a pillow over your head. No one wants to hear his voice," another voice snapped irately, muffled by fabric, possibly a pillow pressed over a face, or the edge of a blanket clenched between grinding teeth. They were silent for a moment, listening to the man go on and on and on about cleaning. He couldn't understand how one person could talk for so long about just putting a broom to a floor. With a twitch of mirth in his voice, the second voice said, "Here's some food for thought. He talks like that normally too. Do you think he talks to his wife in that voice?"

The first voice sobbed a little harder, this time with a genuinely terrified lilt to the noise. The sob cut off quickly with the XO's next words.

"We are due to moore at 1200 hundred due to the seas being dangerous to sail with the storm around Spain, so let's get the ship squared away for a wonderful day in port! XO out!"

The compartment was silent for another long moment, then, "Holy shit, I completely forgot they shifted pull-in to the left. They only told us that this morning... I'm going to the gym. Ya'll can't stop me."

"Such articulate words from an Academy graduate. Wait up for me," the second voice said as the two bodies scrambled from their racks.

Gansey remained in place, pillow still pressed over his face as he thought about that. Port. Spain. The first clue to his next journey. It had been two years since he'd felt something even relatively close to how his search for Glendower always made him feel. Not as frantic, not as life consuming, but just as exciting, just as mysterious and wondrous. Ignoring the fact that he was doing this to prove a point, he was still elated.

He was back together with the people that meant the most to him. They were together, and they were back doing what they did best, searching for impossible things, but also being impossible things all on their own. He'd forgotten about that long ago wonderment. Even their years apart had not made them any less mysterious and odd of creatures, more so even, nd he remembered how much he loved them for just that simple fact alone.

Everything was starting again, and he was ready to receive it.