Expectant Apprehension

Admiral Nelson was talking to the injured man, asking him what his friends called him.

'Francis.'

'Francis.' Nelson chuckled; the next moment would mark a turning point for both of them as he used his name. 'Well, Francis, this is gonna hurt a little bit.'

Nelson wrenched on his leg and set the bone. It was the start of a seemingly mismatched but truly exceptional friendship.*

Night approached and Nelson paced sick bay. He sat just to jump up again to pace some more. He didn't know when he last slept. Although he was exhausted he couldn't relax. He feared the worst possible outcomes. He couldn't bear to see his friend as he was, he couldn't bear not to watch over him.

The Doctor spoke, "Admiral, I know you worry about him always, sir. But you aren't helping him by pacing here. You need rest yourself. Is there some way I can help? Would you take a sedative?"

Nelson replied, "I just can't … well until we know … "

Nevertheless, Doc insisted that Nelson go to the quiet of his cabin to get some sleep. Nelson however was fretful and would only agree if Mr. Morton set a watch for the Captain so a man was with the Skipper at all times. He didn't want the Captain to be alone for a moment. If the Skipper woke he wanted someone at hand. If he died Nelson didn't want him to die alone.

The control room crew were anxious to volunteer for watches with the Skipper as they all felt the need to help in some tangible way. A roster of short duty watches was set. The men were encouraged to calmly talk or read to the Skipper as he slept so he heard a human voice. As they were briefed reality struck and each man silently faced and overcame the unvoiced fear that he would be the one there with the Skipper if he died in the night.

Once the roster for the Skipper Watch was set Nelson finally reluctantly accepted some meds by Doctor's order and went to his cabin to get some rest.

The Chief walked up to the Admiral's cabin door, knocked, and entered.

"Oh, Admiral, Mr. Morton asked me to check that you get to bed."

"Mm hmm." Nelson was distracted and slumped at his desk.

"What's the trouble, Admiral? If it's the Skipper, he's in good hands."

"I was just thinking I didn't help him enough."

"Well you've been haunting sick bay like a ghost. I'm sure the Skipper appreciates it … or will when he wakes up."

"If."

"If?"

"If he wakes up."

"Oh the Skipper'll pull through … won't he?"

"Maybe, we don't know yet. But that's not exactly what I meant. I tried to tell him something just before the Doc put him out, but … , Chief, I've just been realizing … the whole situation reminds me of what happened two years ago, when Farrell died. I didn't help Lee at all with that."

"Farrell, sir?"

"Oh it was before you joined Seaview, Chief. Almost exactly two years ago. That's why it's been on my mind lately. The Captain and a prize crew were abducted and Lee wouldn't betray our country by confessing to false charges. They threatened to kill our men one by one until Lee confessed. They executed Farrell because Lee wouldn't talk.

Lee tried to tell me about it after, several times, he was struggling … but I wouldn't listen. I just told him to move past it. Now I am the one who chose not to talk … and Lee … " His voice cracked in grief. "Francis, I made … Lee … pay the price for my silence." He paused, "I know … I know they would have killed him anyway. I understand that. But a quick death would have been merciful. What they did to him … what I did to him … "

The Chief was stricken by the anguish before him.

"Chief, I realize now that back then, when Farrell died, Lee must have truly needed a friend. Not to comment, or exonerate, just to listen. I let him down then. Even though he counts me his friend, I failed him. I failed him … " The Admiral's voice trailed off.

"Sir, maybe you'll get a chance sometime to fix that up with him … if he pulls through … but … "

"Yes, Chief."

"Well I don't want to say anything I shouldn't, sir, but I think you need someone to listen more about what's happened these past few days. You give the word, sir, and I'll tell you to move past it if that's what you want or … " He stopped, hesitating.

"Yes?"

"I could cross my heart to never breath a word, sir, and I could listen."

As Nelson finally slept with the help of a good sedative, Mr. Morton announced over the PA, "Now hear this. Now hear this. Sick bay is calling for two volunteer blood donors. If you are ready and willing and have type B+ or O- blood please see a corpsman at sick bay." It was just as well Nelson didn't hear that announcement; he wouldn't have slept at all if he did.

Time passed in sick bay. It was a bit quieter here at night. The softer night lighting was on. Kowalski sat reading a book to the Skipper, who now had a unit of blood hanging by his bedside. There was only one corpsman at the moment, silently, periodically monitoring the transfusion and the Skipper's vitals.

Kowalski stopped reading and sat thinking. He would do anything for the Skipper. He was glad he could help him now. It didn't start that way. He remembered his first meeting with the Skipper … the Skipper's fist to his jaw. The Skipper decked him. Mind you, he had first pulled the Skipper down off the ladder and flipped him onto the deck. The Skipper made some real rookie mistakes that first mission of his aboard Seaview and his first meeting with Kowalski was one of them. It wasn't the best start and it took a while to warm to the Skipper after that. The Skipper however had good ideas, worked harder than most guys, and in an act that changed Kowalski's mind about him, fully knowing the consequences if he failed, had left the only place of safety to save Malone and that scientist. He always looked after the crew and got them out of all the bad jams.

The thing with Farrell he never really understood, but the top brass figured the Skipper did the right thing. He realized that life aboard the Seaview was always risky and they all faced death on some missions.

Kowalski shook his head; another thing he couldn't figure was a cruelty that would try to kill a decent person in such a gruesome way. He could understand hitting a guy in anger; he had done it himself. His own temper was short and he would defend his buddies with his fists, especially Patterson. But tie someone up? Beat him to death? That was vicious hatred beyond his fathoming. Despite his outward toughness, Kowalski was pretty tender hearted underneath.

He looked at his hands, making a fist with one, wondering if he could strike a bound man; one who hadn't done him any wrong. Shaking his head again he opened his fist abruptly in negation of such a possibility even as, in his heart he realized that in the right conditions it could be possible. As he contemplated his hands suddenly he was remembering again the warm blood washing over them, the grating of ribs under them, the Skipper's body jerking under the pressure, that vague but trusting gaze. He flinched, his chest tightened, his heart pounded, he had the shakes again.

Later at the change of watch, Patterson arrived, took the book, looked at it and set it down. He thought back over so many incidents where he had been both puzzled and amazed by the Skipper. Soon after the Skipper joined Seaview the Skipper let him go to the firing squad. He still didn't really understand that. Apparently the Admiral was going to let the Skipper die this time. Some things were so important to the officers that they would die or let others die for those things. Patterson couldn't figure that but he felt it somehow.

Over time he came to admire the Skipper, whose dedication to the crew got them out of so many tight places and bad situations. Once given, Patterson's loyalty was unwavering. When Benson was going to kill the Skipper, Benson offered to let Patterson live if he would swear that Benson killed in self-defence. Patterson's loyalty and sense of right and wrong was unshakable, 'count me out' he had said facing his own death as a result. Loyalty was earned but was hazardous. There was a cost to loyalty, to being shipmates. This time it wasn't Farrell, or Blake who paid, this time it was the Skipper.

Patterson sat looking at the Skipper; his gentle heart could not take in that someone, who didn't even know the Skipper, could tie him up so he couldn't fight back, then beat him so severely he might die of it. It was incomprehensible to his sense of right and fair, to his quiet soul. He, a man of few words, started speaking softly, "Skipper, I don't know if you can hear me, Doc says maybe you can, if you do I just want you to know I hope you get better, that you get well." He didn't say anything more. He'd said what he wanted the Skipper to know. He picked up the book and opened it.

At change of watch Patterson handed the bookmarked volume to the Chief. The Chief, a man of many words, set the book aside completely and talked to the sleeping man unceasingly instead. The Chief wore his heart on his sleeve so everyone aboard knew how much he cared and worried about all of them. In his roundabout way he told the Skipper about it once more.

In the deep of night the Skipper slept on as Riley took the watch. The Admiral tossed and turned in his bunk then sat up; despite the sedative sleep was done for this night.

* Terror on Dinosaur Island