This chapter has some medical stuff that might gross some people out. If you're sensitive to menstrual issues or any type of motion sickness, I'd recommend you skip it. There'll be a basic summary of what happened at the beginning of the next chapter.


Saturday, October 12th, 2008

Bahamian Waters

Walking back to their room, Sam was feeling nothing but grateful. After explaining the situation to Oswin, she immediately radioed the head of the interior department. The woman – a cheerful brunette named Aisha – arrived promptly and when the situation was explained to her, she wasted no time in bringing Sam down to the crew's quarters.

The crew mess was a lot more chaotic than it had been the day before. Crew members wandered around in various stages of undress, clinging to coffee mugs and cereal bowls like they were a lifeline. Jumping up on one of the tables, Aisha let out a sharp whistle, capturing everybody's attention. She explained that they had a sick guest onboard that had no toiletries or clean clothes. If any female members of the crew had any extra sanitary products or old clothes that they didn't mind parting with, their donations would be very much appreciated.

What happened next was something Sam couldn't have quite anticipated. The women almost immediately dropped whatever they were doing and rallied together. Someone brought out a big blue laundry basket and they all started filling it with items. Before he knew it, they had accumulated at least two packages of pads, a half-filled box of multi-sized tampons, two packages of Midol and Dramamine each, a hot water bottle, an unopened package of underwear, and more comfortable clothes than Skye would probably end up needing. Someone even went as far as to go to a supplies closet and get them a clean change of sheets and complimentary soap and shower products. The sheer level of comradery they had shown for someone they didn't even know shocked Sam, and he expressed as much to Aisha.

"We're just doing what we would want someone to do for us in that situation," she explained. "And tell her she doesn't have to pay us back. The best thing she could do is pay it forward to another girl in distress."

Thankful, Sam accepted the basket full of all the female essentials and brought it with him back to the cabin. Hopefully this would end up being more than enough to get Skye through to Monday.

Making the last turn into the corridor leading to their cabin, Sam was relieved to see Dean coming from the opposite direction. He had no idea where his brother had gone but given the huge tray of food he was struggling with; Sam could figure that the dining hall was the safest bet. Although, where Dean had gotten the money for so much food, he couldn't be sure. Nor could he be sure where exactly Dean had gotten those clothes.

"Need help there, Magnum?" Dean looked up long enough to shake his head and Sam's smirk. Although it wasn't quite the same color and pattern, the Hawai'ian shirt Dean was wearing presented the perfect opportunity to make the reference.

"Laugh it up, Fuzzball," Dean remarked as he moved his hands to properly hold the tray. "Tom Selleck's ten times cooler than you'll ever be."

"Where'd you get the outfit?" Sam asked as he walked closer, arriving at the door to their cabin. "And the food?"

"Found it and hustled for it," Dean said. "Does that answer your questions?"

"Why didn't you let me know that was what you were up to?" Sam asked. "I could've helped."

"No, you couldn't have." Before Sam could express any puzzlement at that remark, Dean changed the subject; nodded towards the basket in Sam's hands. "What'cha got there?"

"Clothes, medication, toiletries," Sam listed. "Basically, everything Skye could possibly need to get through the next few days." Dean let out a low whistle.

"Damn," he said. "If that doesn't make you the favorite, I don't know what will." Rolling his eyes, Sam set the basket down.

"I'm not looking to be the favorite," he said as he pulled the room key from his pocket. "Besides, that's gross! She looks twelve!"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Sam would've argued otherwise if he hadn't seen the disgusted face Dean made.

Huh, he thought. Apparently, he does have standards. Not that "don't date adult women who look far younger" was really a standard as much as it was common sense.

"I just meant that she'll be less likely to take her hormonal rage out on you," Dean said, finishing his thought. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Hormonal rage?" he questioned.

"Yeah," Dean said. "You saw how testy she got last night, and the longer this goes on, the worse it's gonna get. That's why we've got to curry favor with her now." Dean tapped his tray with one finger, signaling that the breakfast was going to be his offering. "Then maybe she'll go easier on us."

For a few moments, all Sam could do was stare at his brother in disbelief.

"Dean," he said. "Skye's an actual human person in pain, not a wild animal that might snap at the slightest provocation."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Sammy," Dean said. "See what happens."

"What'll happen is I won't be the one getting kicked in the nuts." Sam muttered that under his breath so Dean wouldn't quite catch it. Ignoring any reaction his brother might have had, Sam unlocked the door and held it open so Dean could walk in with the tray. Once his brother was clear of the entryway, Sam picked up the basket and carried it inside.

…Only to find the bed empty. Sam blinked in surprise and set the basket down on the piece of furniture in question. He looked over to the small dining table and the loveseat, but only saw Dean setting down the breakfast tray. Strange.

"Skye?" he called out but got no response. Dean turned and looked just as confused as he was.

"Is she in the bathroom?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. He turned towards the door and found it ajar. He called out Skye's name again but still got no response. Pushing the door fully open, he saw that the room was empty, and the lights were off. No signs of Skye at all.

"She's not in here," Sam called back to his brother.

"Where'd she go, then?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Sam said, stepping back into the main room. "Look around. Maybe she left a note…"

Sam stopped abruptly when he heard a squelching sound come from underfoot. Looking down, he made a noise of disgust as he realized what he stepped in. Dean rounded the other side of the bed to see what the problem was.

"Is that…?"

"Vomit," Sam confirmed for his brother.

Carefully, he extracted his foot from the pile of sick and stepped back into the bathroom to retrieve a towel. He used it to wipe off his shoe then spread it over the spot of puke on the floor. He'd worry about cleaning it up properly later. They had more pressing matters at that moment.

"Okay," he said. "Obviously she's still sick, but why would she leave the room?"

"She probably went looking for us." Dean's declaration sent a shock over Sam comparable to getting hit by a wave of cold water.

"Shit, she could've," he said, moving for the door. Dean followed close behind him.

"Where do you think, she would've started looking?" Sam heard his brother ask.

"No idea," he responded as he pulled the door open and walked through it. "But if she's sick of delirious, that's not good. She could try to jump off the boat or something worse…"

Not wanting to try to figure out what could possibly be worse than jumping off the boat, the brothers rushed out into the hallway. Before they could decide on a direction to start searching in, though, a female voice caught their attention."

"Hey, are you the ones staying in Cabin 302?"

Sam and Dean turned around and saw Hannah approaching them. Sam could already feel one eyebrow twitching in annoyance. Even if her personality in general wasn't that bad, he didn't think that he'd be able to stand being around her. She wore so much perfume that a person's eyes would water just standing near her. If that wasn't bad enough, there was an underlying smell that was just completely atrocious. Sam couldn't put a finger on exactly what it was, but it was bad.

"We just stepped out of that room," Dean pointed out. "What do you think?" Hannah remained non-pulsed.

"We get a lot of swingers on this cruise," she stated. "You never know."

Something about that remark made Dean uncomfortable, as his complexion turned a shade lighter, and he let out one of those fake half-laughs. Since that wasn't their biggest issue at that moment, Sam turned a hard gaze onto Hannah.

"What do you want?" Hannah gave them both a sour look.

"I was just sent down here to let you know that a passenger from your party has been admitted to the med bay," she said. "You're welcome by the way."

"You mean Skye?" That came as a relief. At least they wouldn't have to turn the entire boat upside down.

"I don't know," Hannah said. "I'm just doing what they told me to do."

"Where is the med bay?" Sam asked.

"It's on the Main Deck just off of the swimming pool." Without hesitation, the Winchester brothers headed off in the direction of the nearest stairwell, leaving behind a very huffy Hannah. "Hey, don't I get a tip or something?"

"No!" Dean called back. If they weren't in a rush Sam would've looked back to see the exact look on her face.


Skye came to, but she didn't open her eyes. She was already in a lot of pain, and she didn't want to add the glare of lights hitting her pupils to that. She tried to move her arm to cover them, but she felt something tug on it. Putting her arm down against her side, the tug relented but she still felt a pinch in the crook of her arm. Lifting the opposite arm, she didn't find the same resistance and moved the limb to cover her face.

Taking a mental tally in her head, Skye tried to figure out what was wrong with her. Her head hurt, she felt groggy, thirsty, sweaty, her chest felt a little tight, her upper stomach was nauseous while her lower stomach was crampy, there was an icky, sticky feeling between her legs…

Shit, I've been roofied and raped, haven't I? As soon as Skye had that thought, she instantly dismissed it as catastrophizing. The feeling of the pleather bed underneath her and the pinch in her arm combined with the smell of disinfectant led her to believe she was in some sort of doctor's office or hospital. Most rapists would sooner kill their victims than take them to a hospital, so unless she got the one "nice" rapist, she honestly doubted that this was the case.

That's when she felt something pitch and shift underneath her, causing her stomach to churn even worse. That unpleasant feeling brought back the memories of what had happened before she blacked out. She was on a boat. She had her period. She got unreasonably sick. She went to look for help. The information would have come as a relief if she didn't feel so disgusting.

The boat started to roll again, and the motion forced Skye into a sitting position. Her stomach muscles jerked back, but nothing came up. Tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to scream. She hated feeling like this. She wished it would go away.

Distantly, she recognized that someone had put a hand on her shoulder and that someone else was trying to speak to her. Knowing it was necessary at this point, Skye opened her eyes. The light did overwhelm her vision and sting her eyes, but only momentarily. Once her pupils had adjusted, she saw that the hand belonged to a man she had never seen before who was sitting in the chair next to her, while the voice belonged to a woman in scrubs who was obviously some kind of medic. It took a few seconds for her to recognize that the woman was asking her a question.

"I'm sorry, can you say that again?" Skye asked, hoping her senses had calmed enough to hear the question this time.

"I said, 'do you know where you are?'" If she were in a better mindset, Skye probably would have giggled because the woman had the same accent as Sebastian the Crab. As it was, she was too sick to even understand the concept of laughter. …Or racism.

"I'm on a boat," she was able to supply in answer. How, though, she wasn't quite sure. Her mouth felt drier than a desert.

"On a boat where?" The woman asked. Squeezing her eyes shut, Skye tried to remember but couldn't.

"I don't know," she said with a painful shake of her head. "I just know I'm on a boat."

"Do you remember your name?" Thankfully, she didn't have to put much thought into that answer.

"Skye," she said. "My name is Skye."

"Do you know anything else? Like your cabin number?" Skye squeezed her eyes shut, trying as hard as she could to remember…

"302?" She hoped that was right. "I was travelling with people, too…"

"Do you want me to try to get in contact with them?"

"Yes," she said. "Their names are Sam and Dean Winchester. We're all staying in Cabin 302." The woman nodded.

"I'll put a call out on the radio," she said. "I'll be right back."

Skye nodded and collapsed back onto the bed. She did her best to push her hair back out of her face, but given how sweaty and greasy it was, it didn't do much to help. As she tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths, a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to look up at a man with curly blond hair wearing a steward's uniform.

"I heard her say she was giving you Dramamine," he said. "The stomach upset should stop soon." Skye's body visibly deflated with relief.

"Thank God," she said before remembering there were more deserving people to thank. "Thank you," she directed at her apparent savior. "What'd you say your name was?"

"Ed Clarke," the man replied. "And you don't need to thank me. I was just doing my job."

Skye wanted to argue to the contrary, but before she could, the woman – doctor or nurse or whatever – was back.

"They're sending someone down to contact the rest of your party right now," the woman informed. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Not great," Skye said. "Haven't been since before I stepped on this boat."

"When Mr. Clarke here brought you in, I assumed you were suffering from dehydration as a result of sea sickness," the woman explained. "I started IV fluids along with an intravenous dose of Dramamine."

"That sounds about right," Skye agreed.

"I also observed a lot of blood staining your pants," the woman said. "I have to ask, is that the result of your menstrual period?" A blush creeped over Skye's cheeks, but she didn't try to deny it.

"Yes," she reluctantly admitted. "I didn't bring any products onto the boat with me. I've kind of already bled through everything I have."

"Oh dear," the woman remarked. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

Skye bit her lip. Part of her wanted to ask for the world; clean clothes, tampons, dark chocolate, the works. However, another part of her understood that she couldn't be so greedy and that anything she took, she would have to pay back. Since she didn't have any money on her, that was going to be a problem. So, she decided on what the bare minimum of what she needed would be. At that moment, the pain was practically unbearable, so out of everything, she decided that was the most important to resolve.

"Can I have some Motrin?" she asked. "I just need a break from the pain. I'll be able to get by on my own after that."

The woman was clearly skeptical about that assurance, but she didn't fight her on it. Instead, she just said, "I'll be back with the Motrin and some menstrual pads," and walked out of the room before Skye could object. Cursing herself internally, Skye started trying to tally up the cost of all the medical expenses she had just incurred.

As if reading her mind, Ed spoke up and said, "you don't have to worry about the price. Medical care was included in the price of your ticket." Skye wanted to shake her head, but the most she could do was squeeze her eyes shut against the pain.

"I got a heavily discounted price," she said.

"Doesn't matter," Ed said. "Still included."

"And I'm pretty sure the captain pocketed most of what I gave him." When Skye opened her eyes again, she saw that Ed wasn't surprised.

"Well, still, no one is going to charge you for this," he assured. "So don't worry."

Skye almost believed him. She did, but it was her own track record for terrible luck that kept her from taking his word for it. Still, she was still grateful for all the help he had given her, and decided right then would be the best time to express that.

"Thank you, by the way," she said. "You really didn't have to save my sorry ass."

"And leave you passed out in the middle of the hallway?" Ed asked. "Never mind the fact that it's my job to aid an injured passenger, on a personal, moral level I wouldn't have been able to just leave you there."

"Still, this feels way above and beyond the call of duty," Skye said. "I mean, you even stayed just to make sure I was okay."

"Well, between you and me I might be using this as an excuse to get out of refereeing a game of Twister with a bunch of bored, pissed off, and possibly drunk guests." Skye laughed just as the woman returned with the promised pads, a small plastic cup with two Motrin caplets in it, and a bottle of water. She set the pads on the table to the side before handing Skye the water and caplets.

"I only have oral caplets of Motrin," she explained. "The only reason why I have an IV for fluids and Dramamine is because dehydration as a result of sea sickness is a lot more common than you'd expect."

"I can only imagine," Skye remarked. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Will you be able to swallow that?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, no problem," Skye said, giving the cup a small shake. "I think I should probably try to sit up, though."

"Let me." Ed helped pull Skye up and kept a supporting hand on her shoulder as she knocked back the pills with a mercifully cold sip of water. She couldn't help the happy noise that escaped her throat. Her face immediately turned red as she pulled the bottle away from her mouth.

"That feel good?" the woman teased. Skye only nodded. "Well, although being able to swallow pills is a good sign, I'd like to keep you on IV fluids for another twenty, thirty minutes just to make sure everything's replenishing properly."

"Okay, that's fine." It wasn't like she was chomping at the bit to get out of bed. In fact, a bit more rest would probably do her some good. "Thank you."

The woman accepted her thanks with a nod and turned to sit back down at a small desk a couple of feet away. Skye turned to Ed.

"Thank you, too," she said. "You really didn't need to do any of this."

"Again, I was just doing my job," Ed assured.

"You don't have to stay," Skye said. "I'll be fine on my own until Dean and Sam get here."

"Honestly, I'd feel better if I stayed until your friends got here," Ed said. "That way I'll know that you'll really be alright."

"Are you sure?" Skye asked. "Because I feel like I'm on the brink of passing out again. Sitting here alone is sure to be boring."

"I'll be fine," Ed said. "You get some rest."

Skye wanted to argue but her eyes were starting to feel heavy again. She couldn't have even fought it if she tried. Shutting her eyes, she positioned her arm back over her face. She was asleep within moments.


They got about halfway to the medical bay before Sam realized that Skye was probably going to want a change of clothes. He wanted to go back to the cabin and get her something clean to wear, and Dean told him to go ahead without him. He just thought it was more important to get to Skye as fast as possible. After all, they had no idea what state she was in. She could be crying or something.

Oh, please, God, she better not be crying. Dean didn't know exactly how he'd handle that situation, but he knew it wouldn't be good.

Hannah's directions had been vague at best. Dean got up to the Main Deck but couldn't locate where the medical bay was. It didn't help that Hannah had said that it was "off of the swimming pool," but because of the storm he couldn't go out onto the deck to try and figure out where it was from there.

He walked the main hallway leading out to the deck about three times, trying to find a door that said "nurse" or "medical bay" or even a red cross on it but came up with nothing. It wasn't until he finally came across another steward that he was able to get some directions, and he was infuriated to learn that he had been walking past the door to the medical bay the entire time. There were no signs, no symbols, nothing marking it as a medical bay. Just a plain gray door that looked the same as all the other gray doors lining the hallway. It could've been a supply closet for all he knew.

Opening the door, he found that was exactly what the space was – a closet. There was a small desk with a computer sitting upon it and a tall storage wardrobe pushed against one wall, and a cheap pleather hospital bed pushed against the other. That was it. None of it was comfortable, nor did it seem safe. Although, that seemed pretty on par with all the other facilities on this ship.

At the desk was a black woman with dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail. She was astutely typing away at her keyboard, likely filling out forms or whatever she needed to do when a passenger got sick or injured. Sitting in a fold-out chair was a man with curly blond hair. Dean almost had to do a double take. For a second, he thought he recognized something but…

That wasn't the point. The most important person here was Skye. She was lying down on the bed, one arm thrown over her eyes. The other arm seemed to be connected to a bag of IV fluids. Her complexion seemed to be twenty shades paler than her natural sun-kissed tan pigment and the dark blood stains on her black pants were nothing short of a disgusting sight that made Dean wince in sympathy. She might not have been crying, but this was honestly worse.

Sucking up his personal discomfort, Dean tapped his knuckles on the doorframe. The nurse automatically looked up at him from whatever she was doing.

"Yeah, I'm here for Skye Fisher." The woman nodded in acknowledgement.

"May I ask your name and relation to her?"

"Dean Ford," he supplied. "She's an agent my partner and I are training." The nurse frowned.

"Agent?" she questioned. "I don't understand."

Dean groaned internally. Just as he was about to launch into an explanation of what had happened over the past few days, the man sitting in the chair jumped in to save him.

"I think these are the FBI agents that are supposed to be investigating Fred Thompson's death." Dean raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the man, who just shrugged. "All of the other stews are talking about it."

"Uh-huh," Dean said. "And you are?"

"Ed Clarke." That rang a bell, but not in the way Dean was expecting.

"Ed Clarke?" he repeated.

"Yes sir," the man said.

"Aren't you the guy who found Fred Thompson?" Ed responded in the affirmative. "We've been wanting to talk to you. We asked a bunch of people who worked on the ship, and they didn't know if you were onboard or not." To that, Ed shrugged.

"I joined this trip last-minute," he said. "I was going to take the weekend to relax and clear my head, but then I remembered that I have bills."

"And no one mentioned that we were looking for you?" Ed shook his head.

"They just said some FBI people got stuck on the boat. They didn't mention anything about me." Dean sighed.

"Awesome." He was really getting tired of everything going wrong on this boat – which reminded him of why he was there in the first place. Turning back to the nurse, he asked "is Skye okay?"

"She will be," the nurse responded with a nod. "I have her on IV fluids to help with the dehydration. I was going to keep her on for another ten minutes."

"Does she need to stay here?" Dean asked.

"I'd actually prefer it if you took her back to her cabin once she's off the IV fluids," the nurse explained. "I only have the one bed and I'm sure we're going to be dealing with a lot of passenger injuries as this storm goes on."

Dean frowned. It probably wasn't ideal, but he could see her point. This place was far too small, and it looked like she had very little to work with. They should be thankful that she was able to treat Skye at all. How any of this was passable was a complete mystery to him.

Before Dean could really voice his opinions about it, though, Sam walked in. …Or, rather he opened the door behind Dean and could go no further as there were already too many people in the room. The look of confusion Sam wore told his brother that if he hadn't been standing there, Sam wouldn't have thought he was in the right place.

"This is the medical bay?" A deep sigh of exasperation that resonated through everyone present was the only response Sam got.

"Did you get her clothes?" Dean asked instead. Sam nodded.

"Yes," he said. "And, uh, some other stuff."

Dean took the bundle of clothes Sam handed him. He looked between the t-shirt and sweatpants and saw Sam had stuffed the necessary female products in there along with underwear. Grimacing, Dean turned to look at the nurse again.

"She can change here, right?" he asked.

"Yes," the woman responded, crinkling her nose slightly. "In fact, I think it'd be best if we got that done sooner rather than later."

Standing from her desk, the nurse only had to take one step to cross the room to Skye's bedside. She called her name at the same time she gently jostled Skye's shoulder. It took a moment, but she did rouse. Pulling her arm away from her eyes, the first person her gaze landed on was Dean. A stricken look crossed her face as she cursed.

"I'm sorry," she quickly followed it up with. "I should've stayed in bed. I didn't mean to cause all this mess." At the word "mess," she involuntarily looked down at herself and made a gagging noise. Although Dean agreed with the sentiment, he still waved it all off.

"Don't worry about it. Sam got you some clothes." Dean stepped forward and handed the bundle of clothes. He couldn't look at her as he did so, mostly because he didn't want her to notice that his eyes were watering from the smell coming off her. Once they were in her arms, Skye frowned and unfolded the garments, giving each one a thorough inspection.

"Where did Sam get clothes?" she questioned.

"Long story," Sam said. "But a bunch of girls felt sorry for you and donated some stuff to help out." Skye raised her eyebrows.

"Well, color me impressed," she remarked. "The shirt's a bit big, but the pants are the right size." It was only when she turned the garment around in her hands that she frowned. "Although, I'm not sure this is the right message I want stamped across my ass right now."

When she was met with several looks of confusion, she flipped the pants around to show that the word "juicy" was written across the butt in big pink letters studded with rhinestones. Dean immediately gagged in disgust while Sam sputtered.

"I didn't look at the clothes before I grabbed them," he admitted.

"Clearly," Skye remarked before shrugging. "At least it's not white."

"Is there anywhere she can change?" Sam asked, directing the question to the nurse. She nodded.

"There's a privacy curtain around the bed," she said, gesturing to where the curtain was bunched up and tied back by the foot of the bed. "For liability reasons, I am going to have to ask you all to leave the room while she does so."

"I'm not sure I can do it on my own, though," Skye said. "I'm not even standing up and I still feel wobbly."

"I'll be here to assist if you need it," the nurse assured. Skye started to sit up and grimaced, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"I'll need it." The nurse nodded and stepped forward to give Skye an empathetic shoulder squeeze. She then turned to the rest of the room.

"The rest of you are going to have to leave," she said. "I can't have a bunch of men in here while a woman is changing."

Dean and Sam acknowledged that they understood and stepped out into the hallway. Ed Clarke followed shortly behind them. Before he could turn tail and run off, the Winchester brothers stepped in his path.

"Oh-no," Dean said. "You're not going anywhere yet. We still have some questions for you."

Sighing, Ed crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the two of them with a deep look of annoyance.

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "Fire away."


Also, I don't know if anyone's caught on to what I implied Dean was doing… I wanted to come right out and say it but every time I tried it came out very weird and uncomfortable in my opinion. So, just take the implications and draw your own conclusions. I mean, that's all Sam can do, so why not you, too?

Remember kids, always do your best to take care of yourself.


Originally uploaded on 9/22/2024.