It really was too bad… Admiral Nelson sank into his chair, staring at the pocket watch, still seriously rattled by the report he'd gotten that morning… No wait… He wouldn't get that report until three days from now… If this was time travel, it was playing havoc with his mind…
But he regretted being so hard on Chip. The man's skepticism was a good thing, actually. The crew to a man would follow the admiral down any dark path he chose to go. Lee might protest, but he had a tendency to believe in the admiral. Only Chip had the healthy skepticism that often asked inconvenient questions and pointed out irreconcilable truths. It was part of what made him so valuable an addition to the team. Though he, too, showed a tendency toward admiral-worship that was disconcerting, he never let it get in the way of his duties. Sharkey might have believed the admiral without question, but Chip was the best man to look into Nash and get to the bottom of what had happened… What would happen in three days.
And Nelson knew he held the young man to an impossible standard, expecting him to read minds, to act before he completely understood the situation, and to put right what might be irretrievably ruined. He didn't ask those things of anyone else, not even Lee… And when Chip fell short – as inevitably he sometimes would – Nelson was unpityingly harsh. He had grown into the habit after John's death. He thought now that it was a habit of resentment… Resentment that John had died saving the admiral's life, that he had died instantly, without even a chance to say one last thing to Nelson… That John had died, when others could have been better spared… It shamed him that that resentment had only grown when he had seen that John's death had hit Chip so very hard…
A surrogate father, that's what John had been. Alan Morton had never, ever been much of a father. His angry words had been downright abusive, and at least one of his children – his daughter – had never recovered from the punishing ridicule and insults. Chip had been made of stronger stuff; he had gone underground so to speak, fashioning that impenetrable façade and tidily hiding himself away behind it. Alan rarely lashed out in public, but Nelson had been a witness once or twice. It had amazed him how Chip – even at twelve years old - had retreated behind that mask, and gone… elsewhere, not exactly immune to his father's cutting insults, but seemingly unaffected by them. As a child, he'd been easier to read, but still, both his cousin, Derek Morton, and the admiral himself had seen to it that from the time they'd stepped in, Alan was basically a non-player in his son's life. Nelson liked to think that, in a way, it had saved the boy. Under Derek's watchful eye, he had grown into that remarkable mathematical intellect, and when the time had come, Nelson had used his influence to get an appointment to Annapolis, and he had watched the boy's career religiously… A remarkable career it had been, too… But it still made Nelson a little angry to think how John had been the one to step into a father's relationship with the younger man.
He had tried to put a stop to it, at first, not liking the implications for his boat… Personal relationships between the officers often led to disaster; he had seen it before, on lesser boats. He didn't want it on Seaview. If the officers were focused on protecting each other, the men suffered. And if the men knew what was going on, they often resented the closeness, though he was compelled to admit that had never been the case on his boat.
But it had always been hard to stop John when once he set off down a path. Nelson had failed to turn him off camping, he had failed to turn him away from ONI, and he failed at this, too. John, who had never been quite the same after his son's death, had simply needed a son too much. Nelson had always been afraid that would be the case, but he had underestimated how much Chip had needed a father figure… It bothered him now how badly he had underestimated that… And it didn't bear thinking about how much he had planned on being that father figure himself. Planned, but never followed through. It had seemed too hard, when the young man shut himself away behind that far-too-effective mask…
So John had stepped in… And as a result of resentment and even a little jealousy – nothing he could ever turn on John, whom he had known for more than half his life – Nelson had stepped back. Too far back, as it turned out. And now John was dead, Lee was dead…
No! Lee wasn't dead. Lee was alive, and Nelson had to prevent what would happen in three days' time. He reached for the intercom. "Captain Crane, come to my cabin, please." It shamed him how much he needed to see the younger man, to be sure that he was alive, well, driving the boat with all the ability he had always shown. He had stepped back from Chip, but Lee was the son he needed himself. Lee's was the name on the will in the safe in his office at the Institute. He had changed that will not long after Lee had accepted a permanent position as Seaview's captain. He had told no one of that change. Only he and his lawyer knew what was in that document, and how much it differed from what had been in it before John's death.
A knock on the cabin door pulled Nelson from his reverie. "Enter."
The door opened, and Lee Crane came in, sending a questioning look at the admiral. "I hope Chip's not in your black books, sir."
Naturally, that would be the first thing out of Lee's mouth. He and Chip were good friends. That hadn't always been the case, and they were so different that it sometimes surprised Nelson how close they were. Each seemed to intuit what the other was thinking. Of course, Lee would be wondering why Chip had been summoned down here first. The way that interview had ended probably hadn't shown in Chip's face, but Lee would have read it in those frosty blue eyes, and in the tension that surrounded the young man. "Not at all. I just had an assignment for him." Nelson's reassurance would fall short, he knew, but Lee wouldn't call him on it. And Chip would honor the command to say nothing. Better that Lee not know what was going to happen in three days. No… What wasn't going to happen in three days. Which meant, of course, that there was no real point in Lee knowing about it. He looked at Lee, suddenly aware that he was seeing the captain for the first time since his death…
No… He wasn't dead yet, and now, he wouldn't be. Nelson drank in his face, hating the overlay of a deathly pallor and cold, still hands that leeched the color and life from the man who stood before him very much alive. That damnable memory… If only he could banish it…
"He seemed a little… tense…. When he came back, sir." Lee pursued the subject, even though Nelson badly wanted to change it.
"It's a difficult assignment. I have complete confidence in him. Lee…" Nelson trailed into silence, unsure what to say. What did one say to a man who had died, but was still alive, and - with luck - wouldn't actually die in three days? How did he keep from staring hungrily at the living figure, remembering too clearly the lifeless body… He had lost too many friends over the years. Loss was always deeply painful; for the very private man that Nelson had perforce become over the years, it was even more painful as his friends began to slip away from him. John, younger and more vibrant, a year behind Jiggs and Nelson at the Academy, should have lived, would have lived if the bullet had found its real mark… Though in fact, he had no way of knowing that Gamma's agents weren't gunning for them both. John had thwarted Gamma's plan to start a nuclear war, and Gamma might very well have wanted revenge for that…
But though John's death had haunted him, and haunted him still, it paled next to the death of a young man he had come to think of as his son… He couldn't banish the stark memories of Lee lying there, still and cold, lifeless. Inactive forever, when he had been so very, very active, so very, very alive…
An old man should precede young men in death. It wasn't right for Lee to die in three days… Not to die in three days… This was why time travel was problematic; the time traveler couldn't keep straight what had happened, what hadn't happened, and what wasn't going to happen… Pem had suggested there were rules, but his interference indicated that those rules were loosely enforced… There should be some kind of board to oversee all this. But if there were, would Nelson have been allowed to go back at all?
"Sir… Admiral, are you all right?" A note of alarm rang in Lee's voice, pulling Nelson from his chaotic reverie. The admiral looked into those hazel eyes, and forced a smile.
"I'm fine, Lee." Chip had asked the same question, though he had kept his emotions hidden behind that mask he always wore. Nelson had snapped at him, but it was impossible to snap at Lee's very obvious concern. "Sit down, I'm fine!" He hastened to change the subject, hoping to distract those shrewd, narrowed eyes. "Lee, what can you tell me about Nash?"
Surprise bloomed in Lee's eyes. "Nash, sir?" He contemplated the question. "You probably should have asked Chip that. He's got all of the sailors' lives practically memorized…" But he thought about it, and finally answered. "I know that Chip has been concerned about him. He's our best radar man, and while radar isn't necessarily as important as sonar when we're submerged, he's definitely a good man. But Chip's told me that lately he's been… different. A little paranoid, a little off…" He shrugged. "Nothing you could put your finger on, sir. And certainly nothing that would warrant relieving the man of duty, but…"
The admiral nodded, concerned that there might actually be something wrong with Nash. He had picked the man for this crew, and up until now, Nash had been as steady as they came. Nelson hated to think that he'd been wrong, but if Nash were cracking up… "Maybe Will should look at him…"
"If we can get him to Sick Bay at all…" Lee sighed. "It's not always as easy as it sounds. But I agree that Nash needs help. I'm sure Chip would agree also." The captain rose with a smile. "I have a boat to run, sir."
The admiral waved him off, and settled down to think.