Hi guys! Sorry about the complete absence of anything from me! Work and real life well and truly got in the way! At this point I'm working towards trying to get some of my SP fanfiction completed... Idea's in abundance just no time to write, so I'm attempting to get up what I can, when I can!

Thanks for your continuing support :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sea Patrol or any of it's characters!

Skeletons: Part 3

A horrible stench hit Kat the instant she stepped into the dank, dark warehouse. She followed the group, eyes scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary, but she soon realised it was too dark to pick up on anything and so turned her gaze back to the guys. Her eyes locked onto the rifles hanging off their shoulders and she knew that these weren't men to be trifled with. The presence of Jo walking next to her gave her only brief reassurance. She noticed a pile behind him, a large dark patch near the wall and, for a moment as they walked past it, the stench was at its strongest.

"Here they are."

Her attention was pulled away from the smell, her eyes roaming over the kneeling group in front of her. Guilt wracked her as she looked over the pitiful lot. Their skinny, starved bodies were stripped of almost all clothing, strips of material barely covering them. Despite the crowd, it didn't look like the right number, so she counted them; there were only 9.

"There are meant to be 20. Where are the other 11?" Her voice came out cold and calculating, making her sound heartless. She felt herself hesitate for a moment but quickly composed herself. There was only one way to get out of here alive and that was to continue with the charade.

"We were only able to get 9. The others… escaped."

She heard the lie instantly, and took a step forward, putting herself in a commanding position.

"We bought 20. We want 20. Where are the other 11?"

They hesitated, heads turning to one another as they tried to work out what to say. She could tell that they had expected to get away with it and now, they had no idea what to do. The leader finally let out a resigned sigh.

"Switch the lights on."

The room blazed in light as they were switched on, illuminating every corner of the warehouse. She allowed her gaze to move around, hoping to understand a bit more of the situation. Her eyes landed on the dark pile and, suddenly realising what the horrible stench was, she let out a gasp of horror. They looked the same as those kneeling in front of her, but thinner, their skin loose, white and waxy. Bile rise in her throat and she quickly swallowed it down; she needed to be strong.

"You weren't intending on telling us this," she muttered, eyes still on the pile.

There was more fidgeting and Kat knew she had control over of the situation.

"Look. We're sorry. But…"

She shook her head. "Sorry isn't going to cut it when the Boss finds out. We're taking this lot and we're not paying until you deliver another 11. Then you'll get your money."

She clicked her fingers, and the other two men on her boat came through to collect the nine. As she turned to leave, her eyes wandered back to the pile. Though it wasn't a shock this time, she still had to fight back the bile that rose in the back of her throat. Nodding briskly at Jo, she forced herself to walk, rather than run back to the boat. Her instincts were telling her that if she wasn't careful, she'd become one of those on the pile. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Despite the foul smell, her stomach settled and her breathing calmed, and she was surprised to see an image of Mike in her mind. She let out a sad sigh, wishing she didn't have to push him away, wishing she could do nothing more than to step straight into his arms. Hearing Jo call out to her, she turned her mind from Mike to surviving through this day.

A small light glancing off the screen caused Mike's eyes to flicker to his phone, but it remained dark. His lips pursed in frustration before he picked up his glass, and downed the last of his beer. Placing the glass back on the table, he rolled it around on its base, his gaze alternating between his phone and the door to the pub.

Having decided it was best to sit away from the crew, he had managed to find himself a small table in the corner of the pub, still within view of the door. His gaze darted back to his phone, thinking that it may have rung during the few seconds his eyes hadn't been glued to the screen. Disappointment filled him when the screen flashed blank. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed his phone, dialling the now familiar number before his mind caught up with him. As it switched over to voicemail, he heaved out a frustrated sigh. He didn't know what he had done wrong, but for some reason Kat was ignoring him.

The shrill ringtone of her phone broke through the drunken stupor Kat had sunk into, and her eyes rose from the bottle in front of her. His name flashed in time with the beat, calling to her to answer it. Her hand snaked across the table independent of her mind, and though her fingers closing around the vibrating plastic, an image of Mike's dead body stopped her from pulling it towards her. If she answered the phone, then he could end up like them. Tortured, murdered, and his body left to rot on a pile and all because of her.

She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to rid her mind of that image, and took another gulp from the bottle as she tried desperately to bring forward his smiling face. It burnt a slow path down her throat, the pain numbing her fear; she couldn't remember his smile. She quickly brought the bottle to her lips again, finding comfort in the pain.

Someone fell into the seat in front of him, and his head shot up in surprise. Charge leant over the table, pushing a full beer glass across to Mike.

"Saw you were running empty," he said, waving his hand at the empty one.

Mike took it wordlessly, taking a long sip before slamming it back onto the table. He heaved out a sigh and reached for his phone again. Charge stopped him as he was about to hit 'call'.

"You realise, if you keep calling her, she'll think you're stalking her or something."

Pausing, he threw a glance at Charge, wondering just what the older sailor was talking about. His eyebrow slowly rose, asking him to elaborate.

Charge took the hint, leaning over the table so he wouldn't have to raise his voice. "How many times have you called her tonight?"

Mike glanced down at the phone in his hand, his finger still hovering over the call button. Next to Kat's name, the number '11' stared back at him, and Charge's earlier comment suddenly started to make sense. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd last seen her, and he didn't know what had happened to her in that time; she could have been called back to her father's place or lost her phone…there were a thousand legitimate reasons as to why she hadn't called him. Smiling up at Charge, he put down the phone and reached for his glass.

"She'll call you when she's ready to," Charge chuckled, standing up from the table. Mike just shook his head in reply, shoving his phone into his pocket. Sculling the last of his beer bottle, he set his sights on joining the rest of the crew. However the thought was short lived, for right then his phone started ringing.

The vodka burned its way down her throat, and she could feel the alcohol ebbing its way out into her limbs. Each one felt like lead, increasing the effort it was taking to bring the bottle to her lips. The urge to keep drinking wouldn't abate, though she knew that no amount of drinking would ever take away the guilt she felt; the image of the pile of bodies was burned into her minds eye. A loud knock pierced through the drunken haze that had enveloped her mind, and she scrounged up the energy to call out that the door was open. She didn't care who it was. They could come in and do what they wanted with her. Nothing would make her feel any worse than the way she felt at that moment.

"Kat?"

Her eyes focused on the face gazing down on her, her body flinching slightly at the tender touch to her cheek. It wasn't something she deserved, especially since she had tried so hard to push him away, to keep him safe.

"Talk to me Kat. What's wrong?"

Shrinking back into the pillows of the couch, she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block Mike out. If she imagined he wasn't there, he would just leave and disappear. She faintly registered the dull thud of the bottle hitting the floor, knocked by her knees as she pulled them up to her chest. The foetal position offered her a small modicum of comfort, feeling as though it was the only way to hold her together. Tightening her arms, she tried to shut out the faces of those she'd sentenced to a lifetime of servitude. She'd taken them away from their families, their friends, even their homes. She was the one who had paid for them to be brought here. It was all her fault.

"Kat? Please?"

His voice cut through the haze that had clouded her mind and she felt his arms tugging at hers, causing her to unravel. She heard sobs and felt her body begin to quiver, yet it took her a moment to realise she was the one crying. Taking comfort in his arms, she clutched his shirt, letting the emotion of the last few days out. She had never depended on someone like this, and the sudden need to stay with him scared her. His presence around her made her feel warm and safe and, somehow, she knew that by staying with him, nothing was going to hurt her. She trusted him and, at the moment, that was all that mattered.

"I killed them. All of them. Eleven are already dead and the other nine are unlikely to survive the week." She barely managed to choke out the words, but he heard them, loud and clear.

"Kat, what are you talking about?"

Managing to pull her face from his shirt, she looked up into his face. The concern and affection swirling in the blue depths frightened her, yet at the same time it was comforting. A warm feeling flooded through her, and she knew she could trust him.

"I haven't been completely honest with you." Resisting the urge to look away from his confused gaze, she continued. "I'm an undercover Federal Agent. We're trying to break a people smuggling ring and I'm the main smuggler. My name isn't really Kat Baker either. It's Kate Thompson."