6. Sharkie
Date: 4-27-2024
Time: 1841
I lied about fucking a recruit, especially when I’ve only been on this boat for 24-hours and have thrown up more times than I can count. Miles into the water with no land in sight, and no boats passing, we’re all alone in the middle of nowhere with nothing to distract me from the thought. At least it’s not storming anymore.
The team is loud over the whistling of the boat’s engine, cheering and laughing with the deck of cards one of them brought to distract themselves. We tend to stay too immersed in the fact we’re trained killers and forget we were once normal people with normal lives. It’s refreshing to hear them actually enjoying time with each other, even if it’s a sound I’m not used to. Typically, when I am around others I’m training and preparing them for every possibility of what they could encounter during their service with us. Most have never seen an enemy in a form other than a punching bag or target or colleague. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen any of this team actually fight anything. Dutton had me running around doing too much of his dirty work lately. It makes me worry if we will succeed or not. But my worrisome thoughts are washed away by another aggressive wave of nausea. I lean over the side of the boat, hands wrapped around the rail in a death grip, desperate not to fall over with the remnants of the meal I just ate.
The ocean is dark, really fucking dark. No matter how long I stare at it I still don't find comfort and, in the night, when the sun sinks below the horizon, it becomes harder to distinguish sky from sea. It’s just one endless black hole, too deep, too vast and holding far too many secrets.
“How are we holding up there, Captain?” I cringe as the deep raspy voice rumbles behind me. I rarely ever hear my rank, but when I do, it’s never in these circumstances. Straightening my shoulders, I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm but don’t consider turning just out of fear that I'll empty my stomach all over the deck instead. I’m sure I’m not the first captain in history whose subordinate has seen them throw up but that doesn't mean I want to be added to that list.
“I’m fine.” My mouth tastes sour and is drier than the desert. I desperately run my tongue against my dehydrated lips as I form words whilst fighting another round of the mouth sweats. “Go enjoy the time… with the team… Sergeant.”
It is a guess at his rank, but he doesn’t correct me. After a few deep breaths to suppress the ever-strengthening urge to be sick again, I glance over my shoulder. It’s the same man who was guarding the boat when I first arrived. He still holds the blank stare in his eyes somewhat marred with the type of vagueness only alcohol would bring.
His teeth show, but I can hardly count the look as a smile when it doesn’t reach the rest of his features. “I think I’d rather enjoy the view. Besides, it’s not every day we get to work with the mysterious Shark.”
I all but ignore him and turn back towards the water with a solemn nod. He takes it as an invitation, coming to stand at the rail beside me. The deep crescents under his eyes tempt me to say he should go get some rest, but that’d be rude, so instead we fall into a comfortable silence.
I don’t care about the time, it’s not like I’d be able to sleep anyway. I’ve tried to close my eyes, but even when I blink, I envision the boat going under. I can almost feel my lungs filling with water. My chest rattles with panic, my heart beats a little faster as I stare into the abyss.
“Do you think he knows we’re coming?”
The odd question breaks the buzzing in my brain. The slow ripple of the stars against the water distracts me from my thoughts.
“I don’t think so.” I lie, pushing my ribs into the barrier to steady myself as the ripple seems to affect my inner ear. My blinks are hard and rapid to clear my head. I never claimed to be a good person, but I have good intentions. However, intentions when I lie for him are questionable at best.
“Do you know how to swim?” The statement alone has me all too aware of where I’m standing, causing me to step back from the rail. My dad taught me before he died. Now he’s in there, disintegrated and a part of the thing I fear. My hands tremble at my side so I force them behind my back. I did know how to swim, but not anymore.
“Yes.” I can hear Karma whispering liar right in my ear.
He nods again, his mouth formed into a tight line before he pushes himself away from the railing.
“Night Captain.”
Stepping around me, he disappears behind the steel door joining the men and women unaware of the liquid terror they are traveling through. My chest constricts as though there’s an invisible snake wrapping around it. What was becoming a familiar scene, transforms back into a waking nightmare. After that day I have refused to go anywhere near water I can’t touch the bottom of.
Breathe .
No, no, I can’t breathe, not when the depths stare right back at me with no remorse for their actions. They will pull me in and suck me down. They don't listen when someone says they can't breathe. They hold the power to take a life and never face repercussions.
“Oh,” a small huff for a laugh. “Don’t you be tellin’ me old Joey spooked you.”
The voice startles me enough that my brain short-circuits. Clutching my hand to my chest, I take an inhale deep enough that it makes my nostrils flare and my mouth gapes open to draw in enough air to make my lungs burst. The familiar southern drawl gives me some relief even if it does little to ease my inner turmoil.
I’m not completely alone out here.
“Haha, very funny.” I hum, maneuvering myself so my back leaned into the rail to get a better look at the only man I ever came close to having a relationship with. The corners of his brown eyes crinkle as he grins enough to show a hint of his only dimple. Daymen .
“Or was it the water that sent you into a fit?” His voice softens as he takes a step closer, pushing his hands into his pockets. I never was too open about my life, but he knew the basics and didn’t press for the rest. Glancing over my shoulder at the daunting ocean, I shrug.
“Come on, Cordelia.”
“You’ve lost your mind!”
I take a few steps forwards ready to storm by him, but his arm finds itself around my stomach, the other, the small of my back and they work in tandem to slowly pull me closer until I’m chest-to-chest with him. That tousled black hair falls over his brows, cut just the way I remember it, reminding me of all the times I’d run my fingers through it. He takes a step forward, making me step back. The alarms in my head start sounding.
“Do you remember our first date?” He whispers. Clever. Trying to distract me. But I can feel the sweat from my persistent nausea cling to my skin, making each soft gust of wind chill my flesh. Another step forward met with one back.
I roll my eyes, turning my head to the side and staring across the now empty deck. “I’d hardly call mandatory training a date, Daymen.”
“I thought it was the best one. Seeing you in your natural habitat.” He teases, his attention out toward the stars before being brought back down to me. His proximity successfully getting my shoulders to relax.
“It was the only one.” I correct, a small grin pulls at the corner of my mouth. Each breath I take becomes easier, matching the steady rise and fall of his chest. My limbs are numb, almost like they’ve never been through a battle or under stress. That damn dimple peaks out again.
“Oh no, darlin’, I’d consider this a date right now. So definitely not the only one.” His voice drops an octave, making a blush crawl up my neck into my cheeks. The curve of my back bumps the rail. Instead of my usual panic, I remain still, focusing on the way his eyes shine as the moon reflects in them.
“ Turn around .” He whispers, his lips barely moving.
I shake my head, unwilling to break the trance. Like the stolen glances during debriefings and secrets left in barracks, it feels safe . His hands fall to my waist, making my heart jump into my throat, refusing to be swallowed back down. He’s gorgeous in a boyish way, with smooth features, and not a speck of stubble. Maybe when everything is said and done—
I gasp as my body twirls and my hands scramble for the cold metal rail. The vibration of a small wave crashing into the side of the boat rings up into my palms.
“ Let go of the rail .” The words fall down the length of my neck. Even if I wanted to release my grip I couldn’t. It’s like my body is hard-wired to seize up when I’m so close to something so terrifying.
“For a subordinate, you are making an awful lot of demands.”
“You didn’t mind it before.” I can only imagine the damn smirk he’s holding. Rough fingers trace a feather-light touch over my arms until his palms wrap around my wrist. “I’m not going to let you fall.” He murmurs, letting his lips graze the shell of my ear, making me squirm against his soft pull. I want to move, go lock myself in a room, and pretend I’m on vacation far off somewhere, not here, on this goddamn ship with Daymen behind me. I don’t know when, but somewhere in my meltdown, warm skin replaced the cool steel. I open my eyes.
“See, look at that.” He sounds too proud of his actions as my fingernails dig playfully into his skin.
“You’re cruel.”
“You know I’m only helping.” His mouth dips to my ear again.
I’m not admitting the sinking feeling in my stomach has disappeared, if that’s what he expects. Daymen's hands stay firm with mine, holding them in place on the back of his neck with his thumbs brushing soothing lines. It’s hypnotic, each breath he takes in time with the steady sway of the boat, and I can’t help but copy his actions.
Did my parents ever hold each other like this late at night when no one was looking?
The physical contact doesn’t last long enough as my arms are lowered back to my sides. He steps back. Instead of reaching for the rail, I cross them over my chest, trying to combat the sudden foreboding feeling of loneliness. He clears his throat, I don’t move.
“Goodnight Captain.”
His footsteps recede, leaving me with only my thoughts for company, just how it should be. But that’s not what I want.