Opening

There was darkness and dread. Something was lurking, waiting. Waiting to make itself known. It was inevitable. That something had to be faced.

Not yet, wait … wait a while.

There were sounds, a pen scratching on paper, a voice quiet but persistent. A smell of disinfectant permeated the air. There was a dogged heaviness and skulking dull sensations that weren't right, lurking. Now there was warm brownish light like that seen through closed eyes.

No, not yet. Wait. So tired. Wait … I'm thinking. Thinking? That means something … that means … I'm not dead.

In the late morning Riley was on Skipper Watch again. The Skipper stirred and Riley looked up attentively. After a bit the Skipper's eyes opened. He weakly murmured in disbelief, "I'm not dead."

"No, sir. You're alive." Riley stood up by the bedside. At the desk in the anteroom Doc looked up with interest, but observed quietly, assessing from where he was.

The Skipper sighed and lifted his hand to his head. The breath and movement caused him to flinch and grimace. There was pain in that slight movement. He exhaled with a faint groan.

Riley saw tension forming around the Skipper's eyes and mouth. He was hurting some. "Skipper! Are you okay?"

The Skipper didn't respond but his eyes moved as he glanced around trying to orient himself. He could only see the overhead and some bulkhead. There was a pause for a few moments. Riley watched intently not knowing quite what to do, "Skipper?"

Eventually in a faint and rough voice the Skipper spoke, "This is sick bay." Hearing this Doc nodded to himself with satisfaction, Crane knew where he was, was oriented to place, this was good.

"Yes, sir. That's right." Riley stood by, eager to help but unsure of what to do. Both Riley and Doc waited.

The Skipper's eyes scanned the space again, finishing up looking quizzically at Riley.

After a very long pause, "Sick bay? … you okay, Riley?"

Riley looked slightly startled, remembering the Skipper's last words to Doc and the talk with the Admiral about the Skipper's concern for his men. Wondered fleetingly if he were the one waking up after two days of drugged oblivion if his thoughts would turn so quickly to one of his men. He smiled with pride that was his Skipper. "Yes, sir. I'm fine." He continued rather cheerfully, "I'm here to keep an eye on you, sir."

Doc nodded to himself again, well pleased with what he had heard. Doc stepped up to the bedside and Crane in extreme weakness glanced his way looking at him for a while. Doc knew to give him time. Crane eventually said, "Doc? … I thought … I died?"

"No, Captain." He reassured him, "You didn't die."

"Huh." Faint and wondering. Almost disbelieving. Eyes closing, beyond weary.

Soon though his eyes opened to look around at as much of the ward as he could see without moving. He knew he didn't want to move though his mind shied away from wondering why. Starting to piece things together his eyes made another circuit with rising uneasiness tightening his features. "Admiral! Where's the Admiral? Is he here Doc?" His breathing sped up with agitation. "Doc? Is he … is he … ?" The Captain's voice faded not willing to articulate that fear. He blinked rapidly since his eyes filled instantly at the mere thought. He looked around again for Nelson almost in panic; his voice was tense with distress. "He's not … ?"

Doc quickly reassured him. "He is okay, Captain. Don't worry he's okay, he's just not here at the moment."

Riley looked a question at the Doc, who nodded for him to go ahead. With a spring in his step Riley jumped to the mike, "Admiral Nelson, this is Riley."

Crewmen in the control room and around the boat stopped and looked up at the intercom speakers with sudden trepidation. Riley was on Skipper Watch.

Nelson was dejectedly walking a passageway with a distracted look on his face. He stopped at a mike, sighed tiredly and picked it up. He answered, his voice dull, "This is Nelson, what is it, Riley?" Everyone listening held his breath.

"He's awake, sir."

Nelson's face cleared; he was instantly energized. His voice was stronger. "Very well, I'll be right there."

Crewmen grinned at each other in sudden relief rapidly changing to jubilation. None had realized how sombre they were until they weren't. Chip, in the control room, sighed in relief and smiled with the other men there.

Nelson, heading to sick bay, heard the happy commotion down the passageway in the crew's quarters and smiled to himself.

Back in quiet sick bay the Skipper sighed in relief at hearing Nelson's voice over the intercom. He relaxed briefly then asked Riley, "The Admiral is on his way?"

"Yes, sir."

Crane attempted to rise but fell back with a gasp and strong groan. He didn't even get his head off the pillow and he was overwhelmed. His breathing went ragged as he struggled to master the distress of that movement.

Riley surprised himself by giving gentle direction to a senior officer, "Take it easy, Skipper. The Admiral won't expect you to be up, sir."

The Skipper's ragged breathing continued. Every small movement triggered savage pain, which in turn caused him to shift to try to alleviate it, creating more. It was overwhelming. A vicious cycle. He shuddered at the sudden assault of sensation from too many pummelled nerves, tissues and muscles.

Riley anxiously looked toward the Doctor who was preparing a syringe. "Doc … Doc?"

The Doc verified a painkiller dose and moved forward with the syringe. "Captain, please don't try to move much yet. You got a bit banged up." Riley looked at him, astounded at the understatement. "The corpsmen will help you with that today. I have painkiller for you, sir. I seem to be jabbing you a lot lately, you'll be feeling like a pincushion."

Crane looked startled for a few seconds as he took in all that coming at him at once, the instructions, the medication, and the comments requiring deciphering. "Umm … I … I'm still going with anvil, Doc."

"Right Captain, that's much more apt. This will sting, sir." He injected the Captain who grimaced slightly.

"Uh, thanks, Doc."

Once the Skipper had the painkiller Riley stepped out to the anteroom so the corpsmen could tend to him and get him set up more comfortably. Nelson arrived and Riley met him there. "The corpsmen are seeing to the Skipper, it'll just be a minute or two, sir." He hesitated then volunteered much more than he usually would to a senior officer. " … Sir, he's really worried about you, really worried. When he woke up and couldn't see you I think he was afraid you were dead."

"Mm hmm. Very well." Nelson looked very thoughtful. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I'm on Skipper Watch right now, sir?"

"When is your watch over?"

"At 1130 sir."

Nelson looked at his watch, "All right, I relieve you. I'll finish out this watch with the Skipper."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"And thank you, Riley."

"Yes, sir."

Riley left sick bay with a worried backward glance on hearing unmistakable sounds of distress as the corpsmen helped the Skipper. The Skipper was awake and he was glad about that, but now that he was awake he was hurting a lot. It troubled the young man who was unacquainted with intractable pain.

The Skipper was desperately uncomfortable as the corpsmen repositioned him, placing pillows and bolsters strategically to support and ease his battered body, and the Admiral in the anteroom could see and hear that. As they finished up one asked, "Is that better now, Skipper?"

"Yes, that's … that's better … thank you." Crane appeared to relax a bit and some tension gradually left his body. His breathing began to even out. His muscles were badly pummelled. It would be some hours yet before his damaged muscles responded as he willed them to. He needed the corpsmen's help to move much at all right now.

Nelson approached the bed slowly so the Captain had some time to manage his distress before seeing him.

"Lee."

Crane looked at him; his faint voice was strained with pain. "Admiral." He blinked rapidly again at the sudden relief. Nelson was alive and here.

"You're in pain."

"Mm, yeah, … but Doc … has me floating." He continued, "I'm a floating anvil."

Nelson looked very concerned at this strange comment and looking to the Doctor asked, "Is he lucid?"

"Yes, Admiral, I do believe so. He's equated himself to an anvil a couple of times the last few days when I asked how he felt. Given the situation he is actually making sense … connecting the dots so to speak. But he does have a lot of medication in his system so he is extremely drowsy. He is oriented to where he is at the moment but he's likely to be confused in some respects for a while. Especially after so much trauma and being out for so long. That's normal. Some patience on our part will be in order."

"Mm hmm. Ok. I understand thanks, Doc." He turned back to Crane who had closed his eyes.

Kowalski arrived at the sick bay anteroom for the 1130 watch and Doc gestured for him to take a seat there in the anteroom. "The Admiral is with the Captain at the moment. Just wait here for now."

Although Crane remained awake he was very groggy. He had trouble keeping his eyes open. "Lee, you have sleep in your eyes, I'll just get a warm washcloth."

Nelson stood to get one and the corpsman said, "I'll get that for you, sir." He ran some warm water onto a cloth, wrung it out and handed it to Nelson who thanked him.

Nelson laid the cloth over Lee's eyes. After a minute or two Nelson wiped Lee's eyes and face clean. Lee watched him silently not protesting. That passive lack of resistance to his help told Nelson more than many words could of how weak and low Lee really was.

Nelson sat by him in companionable silence not expecting anything from his friend at this moment. Just rejoicing silently inside that he was alive. His expectations would change soon enough.

After a while Crane brought his hand to his lower face and stroked over the stubble there with a puzzled look. "Admiral, what day is it?"

"I was wondering if you were planning to keep that beard. It's Thursday. You do need a shave, but there's no rush."

Crane sorted through that to get to the relevant part, "Thursday?"

"Yes, we brought you to sick bay on Tuesday, the Doc kept you asleep all Wednesday."

"Oh." He closed his eyes, and drifted for a few moments. Crane suddenly rallied, appeared somewhat more aware and looking at Nelson from the corner of his eye completely out of the blue said quite intently, "Admiral, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Lee."

"Good." Crane barely nodded, then after a pause for processing his thoughts moved his head slightly side to side, "No, you're not."

"No, not in everyway."

"I know." Crane paused for a while. Then he spoke, but his thoughts seemed vague and rambling, "The dark decisions … all options … harm. The Academy … teaches … choose the least harm … the best for the most." There was a pause again as Crane was slowly forming his thoughts. "They don't tell you … the grief you cause … people lost … ghosts in your head … guilt in your soul." He glanced at Nelson again for the last words.

"Lee?" Nelson looked desolated for his friend. "What are you trying to say?"

"The right decisions that hurt others … "

"Lee … " Nelson looked with pained compassion at the Captain. He was very well acquainted with the thoughts and feelings Lee was trying to express.

Crane closed his eyes briefly then rallied a bit, looked clearer, and surer of what he was saying. "Admiral, I chose to let them think you were the delegate, but … you had to watch what they did … that's in your head now … can't get it out. I'm sorry about that."

"Lee, … it's in my heart." Nelson paused as that grief and pain washed over him as relentlessly as the tides, then continued, "But I chose too. I could have stopped them just by telling them you were the delegate. If I had they wouldn't have hurt you at all. My choice put you here."

There was pause while Crane contemplated. "Yeah, I remember, we decided together, but we each chose too … " Lee looked at Nelson with troubled eyes. "How do I live with what I did to my friend?"

Nelson blinked rapidly to clear his eyes as Lee's words hit home. Lee was describing his own feelings of abject misery; his crushing guilt over what his silence did to Lee. He answered with a sad sigh, "I don't know yet."

Each looked anguished for the other.

They made the right choice back on Monday in that rapid glance of understanding, decision, determination, and resolve but the price was high and was still being paid.

In the anteroom the Doctor and Kowalski realized they were no longer hearing the vague ramblings of a drowsy man but a very private conversation between their senior officers. They looked at each other uncomfortably, and silently slipped out the door to the passageway.

Doc looked at his watch, "Kowalski, why don't you get a coffee and come back in thirty minutes? We'll see if they want you to resume the watch then."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Doc quietly returned to sick bay.

Crane drifted off to sleep and Nelson continued looking at him. His face revealed the strong paternal feeling he had for his wounded Captain and the anguish he felt for him. Then he picked up the book, turned to the bookmarked page and started reading quietly. In the relief from intense tension and worry, in the quietness, he gradually got sleepy and suddenly dozed off in his chair and jerked upright with a start when he dropped the book onto the deck. The Captain roused to the sound and drowsily looked at the Admiral then pointed vaguely towards the sick bay bunks and murmured, "There's a bunk. I'll know where you are." Nelson thinking of Riley's comments earlier realized that Lee would rest better if he were here nearby at least for the next couple of hours. He was beat and lay down on the bunk. Both slept.