From the Past When in the Navy one brown eye one blue each Chapter 5 pt. 3

From the Past When in the Navy one brown eye one blue each Chapter 5 pt. 3

One day she decided to host a scavenger hunt, putting the available crew into teams of three, and sending them out to gather items from A to Z, inside of two hours. They gathered in the mess hall, for official judging, where she awarded a case of beer, similarly charmed out of Pierre.

She hosted a movie night, where they sat and watched some of the well-worn videotapes, where she, Brett, and Pierre provided running -- and amusing- commentary. Mystery Science Theater 3000, twenty years too early.

One evening, Brett surprised her with dinner on the deck, in the bows, as far forward as he could get the table. They sat and ate, watching the water, and the sunset to the west, toasting each other with beer and the one bottle of wine Brett had stashed in his cabin.

Another evening, she hosted her own version of The Generation Game, a popular game show in the UK, where average people were shown a specialist's job once, and then had to attempt that job themselves and were then judged by the experts who had shown them what to do. She had the crew trying to replace a filter in the kitchen, make a soufflé, manage a Morse code message using a heliograph lamp, and a bunch of ballet moves only she could achieve. It was all very silly and most of the crew were drunk at the end of it, which only made it more hilarious. Brett was astonished that she managed to cajole the crew into doing it at all. But Fiona had that no-nonsense attitude, with a large dose of a cheek, that just assumed you were going to do what she wanted anyway, and all she had to do was shame you into it.

Brett was still given a few shifts of work, and one evening, when he returned to his cabin, he found Fiona dressed only in one of his shirts, leaning out with a bottle of wine in her hand, - god knows where she got it from -- winking at him vivaciously and saying, "Hey, Sailor, see anything you like?"

The sex went from frantic to slow and gentle and got more meaningful. There were little touches, murmurs of delight, small pet names for each other, sly smiles, shared jokes, faked outrage, and one fight they had, regarding her desire to not have to talk to her husband on the radio phone link again.

Brett could not believe he was the one telling her she had to do it -- there was a sense of irony about that that was not lost on him.

There was tired sex, silly sex, lustful sex, comfort sex, and meaningful sex. It was only the night before they were due to dock in Hong Kong when Brett was on watch on the bridge, and the first mate, spelled him, nodding and smiling slyly, when he said, "I'm sure you've got better things to do, yes?" and then winked at him, and Brett realized that the rest of the crew were aware of this relationship.

He nodded, red-faced, and was about to leave when the first mate laid his hand on his shoulder and said, "Lad, I know it's great now, but you know she's leaving in two days, yes? This is not going to last.

Make sure you know where your heart is because she'll only break it if you let her."

Brett was not about to have that conversation -- he did not know the first mate anywhere near well enough to bare his soul, plus he had no idea of his own feelings, - so he just nodded, said, "Yes, Sir," and left the bridge.

But he did not go back to his cabin immediately. He went for a walk around the main deck, stopping in the bows to look at the black water, to try and sort through his own feelings.

He knew this was just a pleasant interlude, didn't he? Of course, he did. He was a career merchant seaman. She was British Royal Family. Of course, there was nothing else to this.

She was pretty, sure. And clever. And funny. And damn, she was hot stuff in bed. And she made him feel like a man, for certain. But part of that was just infatuation -- attachment syndrome. He had been part of the crew who rescued her from certain death. Of course, she was grateful. He could take it or leave it, obviously.

Except... she was pretty. And damn she was fun. And clever. And hot in bed. Wait, he had covered that already.

He would be fine though once she was gone. He would not miss her. Well, he would miss her. Anyone would miss the sex, that's a given, right? But that is all, right? It is not like he would marry her. It was just a summer romance kind of thing. A shipboard fling. That is all it was.

It was not like he loved her, or anything.

Right?

Fuck.

Brett sighed heavily. One thing Brett tried not to be, was a liar to himself.

The fact is, they had not been having sex in the past couple of nights. They had been making love.

Maintaining eye contact. Doing things for each other, just because they knew the other person liked it.

Double Fuck.

The thing is, he knew he knew all this. He just was not going to admit it. He also knew he could not afford to feel this way. Because she was leaving. She was married, for god's sake. And she, sure, would not have felt the same about him. She had her Duty. The all-pervading Duty. And a husband. And a life.

Triple Fuck.

Should he tell her how he felt? What would be the point? Still, was not life supposed to be all about being true to himself? Being real?

Yes, no.

Brett wrestled with his innermost feelings, back and forth. What to do? What to say? Anything at all?

And then, while he was leaning on the railing, staring sightlessly out to sea, an arm slipped into his, and he was aware of a warm body settling next to him.

"Penny for your thoughts? Or in your case, since you are a yank, a dollar?"

He breathed in her scent -- while she wore no perfume, Fiona smelled of clean, crisp, and jasmine, somehow.

"Just thinking."

"Yes, I gathered that. Why else would you be staring all moodily out to sea? Are you practicing for a Smiths music video?"

And there it was, her humor, which punctuates even a good moody moment.

He smiled and turned around to her. "Just wrestling with the whininess of the why, my lady."

She tilted her head at him, and gazed up, unblinking.

"Yes, you are, aren't you? Well, don't let me stop you." And she turned and leaned on the railing next to him, gazing out to sea herself, staring into the future.

He turned back and just breathed for a moment.

And then she dropped a bomb and said, quietly, "Yes, I love you too."

Brett drew in a breath, stunned.

There was silence for a moment while he desperately tried to work out what to say.

They just stared out at the black sea, until he broke the silence.

"Yeah, I... here's the thing, Fiona..."

And she turned to him, and said, passionately. "Now look here, Brett. I know you feel it too, and I know damn well you cannot afford to. I know I cannot. But I do, and you do too, and it is just the way it is. I'm going to have to walk down that gangplank and back to my life in a day or so, and you'll sail on, and we'll both have to deal with our hearts being broken."

She paused for breath.

"God knows I didn't ask for this, and I'm pretty sure you didn't either. It has gotten out of hand, far more than I could have predicted. But here we are. And we have to acknowledge it."

There was more silence as Brett struggled to work out the right thing to say.

To be continued