Predator Prey - 24. Waves

He smiled to himself. Even though the clock said the time was barely past two in the morning, he felt alive. Almost happy, maybe.

He stood at the sink in the galley area, washing up a few dishes left by some nocturnal researchers. He looked over his shoulder. Nobody coming. Not that he was anxious or anything.

Just about every night for the past ten days, Graham had come down for coffee and a snack in the early morning hours. Of course, Graham stayed for a bit of Japanese translation. They tried to read, bantered, and just talked. He discovered that Graham was easy to talk to.

He remembered a conversation they'd had about music – Graham admitted to being kind of a live music nut but it wasn't the topic he recalled so much as their interaction. He couldn't help watching Graham's animation, his lively smile, and shining eyes. Graham was attractive, he admitted to himself. Very attractive, in a nerdy kind of way.

"…so the band couldn't get off the stage, they were that good. Nobody was going to let them leave," Graham had said enthusiastically. "Best bluegrass sound…what?"

Only then had he realized Graham had caught him staring. "Um, nothing," he'd hurriedly replied, looking away.

"No, what was it?" Now it was Graham's eyes focused on him.

"It's just that you make it sound so good," he returned, his own eyes coming back to Graham's. "I'm not really into that folky stuff, but you're beginning to convince me I should go find a concert sometime."

Graham rewarded him with a wide smile. "Deal. When we get back, you're coming to a festival with me."

He laughed. Graham often made him laugh. And he didn't brush the invitation off as he would have earlier – he took other men out, not the other way around. He was always in control. Yet Graham was different.

Something was certainly going on between them, he knew. He could register his own attraction to Graham, and he idly wondered if the taller man had any idea. He somehow doubted it. And really, maybe that was best; he didn't want to damage their friendship by pursuing him openly.

But unconsciously, he started adjusting his work so that he'd have at least a half hour free when the tall brunette arrived.

Graham had surprised him another time, only a few days earlier. He carried a long, black nylon bag in one hand. "Hey, um, Wally, you don't know where I can find a small screwdriver, do you?"

"Yeah, I think so. How small?" His hours with Javier paid off at that moment. At least he knew where the tools were kept.

Graham appeared puzzled. "Dunno, let me see…" the taller man opened the carry bag and extracted a long, lethal-looking object.

"Shit, Graham, what the hell are you doing with a speargun?" he exclaimed.

"It's my toy," Graham answered with a sheepish grin. "I thought I might use it for throwing little collection bags some distance away from the ship – if I drag them from the stern, they kind of get torn, and the canisters are a pain in any kind of a sea, so I thought…" The man stopped as he seemed to realize he was getting a little too enthusiastic.

"You have spears for that thing?"

"I have a couple of shafts with the heads replaced for holding the bags. But I have the spear points, too."

"Jeezus. You go fishing with that thing?" He found himself staring into Graham's eyes for a long moment.

"Once or twice," Graham held his gaze. The man was full of surprises. "Hey, about that screwdriver?"

"Oh, right." He got up to find the machinists' toolkit.

Later, he watched as Graham intently drove in a small screw behind the trigger mechanism. The man's eyes were all concentration. He found himself unable to look away from Graham's face and neck, couldn't help noticing how the taut muscles blended easily from jawline to shoulder.

"There, that's it," Graham said, setting down the tool he'd borrowed. "Thanks, Wally." The researcher started to put his things away. Can't stay too long," Graham added half-seriously, "I don't want Ellie chasing me down again." That had happened the night before, when Graham had stayed forty five minutes with him on break.

"That's okay, I've got aaaaaall this accounting to do," he'd replied dramatically, covering his disappointment. Actually, he really did have a lot of work. "Cookie gave me this project, and now I've had to tear it all apart and start over again. Now I've got to work on efficiency. The algorithms I tried to use first time around just made the whole thing clunky and slow."

"Whoa! Algorithms. Big word for a Business Major," Graham had joked, giving him a playful jab in the arm.

"Hey! I'm an MS major, just like you – with an Operations Concentration," he had laughed in return.

Graham had made a face. "Yes, but how long did it take you to come over to the dark side, boy?" he intoned.

"Does that matter? It was written in the stars."

"Let's see about that," Graham said with a grin, "let me see your hand."

Graham seized his left hand and observed it critically. A long finger ran down the center of his palm. The sensation made him shiver inexplicably at the touch. "Hmm. This line…beautiful."

He looked up at Graham, startled at the word. For a moment, brown eyes locked with his own blue ones. "Um, yes, beautiful…so clear…see that fourth wrinkle, here?" Graham was pointing randomly at his hand. "That's the Marine Science groove. Yours is most pronounced…Marine Science was your destiny."

He'd laughed at Graham's lame joke, of course, and the momentary spell had been broken.

But the echoes of that night rang in his ears. He'd realized that he was having a good time that night; that he'd been having fun – real, honest fun - with Graham. He really enjoyed Graham's company, and he racked his brains trying to remember the last time that had happened, when he hadn't had to be in command.

And what was Graham up to? Had Graham been flirting with him? It was quite possible. After all, he was an expert – not that he'd been trying to flirt back at all. But there was certainly something electric to their nightly visits.

He'd begun looking out for Graham at mealtimes, if only to wave cheerfully to him from the galley. It gave him an odd kind of satisfaction that the tall researcher always waved back.

He sighed. Then there was his project. Cookie was impressed with his revisions to the shipboard accounting spreadsheet. His routine meant working at his laptop in his morning off-watch hours, and again during his early morning dogwatch hours, too.

He consulted with Cookie about the spreadsheet, but didn't beg for more assignments. This one was plenty, and he'd already done quite a lot of research for it. Cookie seemed to have a lot of the manuals on hand. On top of that, he spent a lot of time listening to what seemed like endless stories from Cookie's checkered past, some of them hilarious. Some of them even had a point.

He heard hurried footsteps. Graham. He smiled and turned.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Graham's greeting seemed a little strained.

"Problem?"

"Just got a message from the bridge. Weather report isn't looking too good. I'm going to have to speed up some of my sampling to get it done before it gets bad."

"How much will that mess up your work?"

"Not a whole lot, if I can get all the equipment ready during my open time," said Graham, pushing the curls back from his face in a weary gesture.

"I'd help if I could."

"Thanks, Wally, but I think I've got it covered." The conversation lapsed as Graham poured coffee.

"How bad is it going to get?" He felt surprised at the news; hurricane season was long over with.

Graham rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure. It's not a tropical storm, I know that. Anyhow, it's supposed to get pretty rough."

"When is it supposed to hit?"

"A couple of days from now."

He relaxed a little. He had time. He wasn't fond of storms, but he'd find a way to cope. "So you need a little manga break?"

"No, I can't stay long," Graham returned, with the hint of a wry smile. He grabbed a cookie. "Ellie's already on a rant about what we have to get done."

He couldn't help letting the disappointment show a little. "Oh. Right."

"Sorry, Wally. Gotta get back to the lab."

He stared into space at the sound of Graham's retreating footsteps. How had this happened? He found Graham deeply appealing. He understood that about himself. But was he a child? He hadn't felt anything like this since Adam, the tennis instructor he'd so foolishly kissed. No, he didn't do crushes, not anymore.

Seduction, yes, infatuation, no. And yet there was something about Graham that had gotten under his skin.

Shit. No way was he letting anything like that happen again. No connection to another man that he didn't control. Not that his parents could care anymore, but there were plenty of others to worry about. Cookie. Haskins. The Captain. And no way did he want to risk anything with Graham. He had so few friends in the world, why fuck up a friendship? Especially if he'd misread the brown-eyed researcher.

He stewed over his feelings until Cookie showed up to help him get breakfast ready. He didn't see Graham at breakfast.

In fact, while Graham had seemed nervous about the impending deterioration in the weather, Cookie had very little to say about it.

"It's just a cold front coming across the Gulf," the older man had said offhandedly, "nothing to notice."

"So the scientific guys won't be affected?"

"I didn't say that," Cookie grinned slightly. "They'll get a little anxious, especially for their experiments and work schedules. And the newbies on board will get seriously nervous. We'll see a lot of them until the sea kicks up. Then the newbies will head for their bunks."

"Oh." He wondered how his own stomach would handle rough weather. His January cruise had been pretty placid.

"Won't bother us much. Just have to keep everything stowed away properly all the time, and make sure our storm rations are ready."

But despite Cookie's calm words, they spent a good part of the afternoon watch stowing away loose items and preparing extra food that could be distributed easily. Later on, the Mate made an appearance.

"Cookie, it looks like the really heavy weather is gonna hit after midnight tomorrow, but we can expect some bigger swells to start tonight. You all set down here?"

"No problem," Cookie said with a smile. "Wally here's been doing great. We'll be set."

"Okay, good. Cap pretty much told the Scientific party to knock off doing anything with sensitive or outboard equipment by tomorrow sunset at the latest. That may mean more of them coming down here."

"Got it. Not a problem."

The Mate glanced his way. "Wally working out okay, Cookie?"

"Great. Don't want him going ashore anytime soon."

He smiled at the compliment, despite himself.

But the Mate had been right about one thing. The storm warning changed the pattern of meals and activity in the galley and mess areas. The press of people at supper that evening was somehow greater, more intense. There seemed to be a lot of nervous chatter amongst the Scientific party, at least. He overheard snatches of conversation.

"…forty foot waves…"

"If you can finish that tonight, we can do analysis later…"

"…see if I can trade lab slots."

"…and there won't be any satellite coverage…"

He glimpsed Graham hurrying in and grabbing some of the stew on offer, but his friendly wave went unnoticed. Ellie's research team must have been working hard.

Cookie kept him busy, making sure all was clean and good order for his relief from the next watch, a rather bubbly girl working as an intern for the voyage. She and Cookie would undertake the cleanup from supper, while he headed to his stateroom for the longest stretch of sleep he could get: six and a half hours of unbroken rest. He thought he'd have difficulty drifting off, but he was out before he could be surprised.

His overnight watch saw more researchers and crew in the mess than usual; Cookie and the Mate had predicted that. But Graham was not among the visitors. Around two thirty in the morning, he'd gotten a call from the bridge for some coffee and a snack. He'd brought up a few sandwiches and a steaming fresh mug for the watch to find his acquaintance from his last cruise, Luis, at the helm.

"Hey, Luis. I brought you some coffee and a couple of sandwiches."

"Hey, Wally, I haven't seen much of you," the darker skinned man grinned widely.

"No. I've been working for Cookie. He keeps me down in the mess most of the time. I've seen you at meals, though."

"Yeah, I bet Cookie's giving you plenty to do. He likes to do that."

He nodded silently.

"Usually, I'm sleeping this watch," Luis yawned, "but I'm covering for Shawn tonight. He's so gonna owe me," Luis added, pulling his hand over his face.

"You ready for the big storm coming?"

"Are you kidding me? It's not going to be a big deal," Luis scoffed. "The biggest worry is some really rough seas right ahead of the front. The ship will be fine, but a heavy sea could damage all that expensive scientific equipment that's dragging out aft." He gestured with his head toward the stern, where at least four researchers had sensors, probes and god knew what else in the sea that night.

At that moment, he felt the floorplates underneath him lift subtly, but noticeably.

Luis grinned at him. "Feel that? There's the first hint of it."

He returned to the galley in a thoughtful frame of mind. He hadn't ever experienced seriously bad weather on the sea before. His familiarity on the Gulf was limited to easy, fair-weather boating.

The swell continued through the following day. Nothing dramatic, just enough to make supper preparation more challenging; just enough to gently pitch mugs and cutlery on the tables. As he worked to serve everyone supper, he overheard plenty. The same researchers who chattered excitedly the night before now carped at the restrictions on their lab and experiment times.

"This is ridiculous…"

"…just a little waves, that's all…"

"…hardly justifies cutting off…"

But despite seeing so many of the scientific party, he didn't see Graham at supper. He wondered if he was working on some experiment right down to the wire. He couldn't help a small smile at the idea that this meant a hungry Graham might appear during the wee hours of the dogwatch.

Unusually, he slept poorly during his off watch hours. Was it anticipation? For the storm? Uncertainty about what his heart was doing? He really didn't know. But when he relieved the watch in the galley at midnight he was wide awake.

There were no researchers or crew members there when he arrived. Nobody wanting a midnight coffee. Definitely no Graham. He sighed and went about his business. The increasing sea which had lifted the Feigenbaum all day was quite pronounced, perhaps even stronger, but it was nothing very awful. Luis was right. It had been a big bother over very little.

He was alone again, and he dug out his laptop to work on his project.

He barely noted the passage of another hour or more, but when he took a break, two things competed for his attention. First, the Feigenbaum seemed to be rising and falling more markedly than before. The ship seemed to move more sharply under his feet every minute, and crockery and mess equipment rattled in their stowage. Second, footsteps were approaching.

A moment later, a rather wet and anxious looking Graham entered. He wore a flotation vest.

His heart rate rose a little. "You okay?"

"No. I came down to ask a favor, actually," Graham said, clearly embarrassed.

"Sure, what?" He couldn't help be pleased to see his friend again.

"I was stupid. I know we weren't supposed to, but we really have to get this data, and…" Graham faltered. He took a breath. "Anyway, I was an idiot and put out a collection canister over the side tonight. I just had to. We needed the sample; it's time critical, and it really wasn't too, too bad…"

So Graham wasn't perfect. He smiled.

"…and, well, the cable tether is being a bitch to pull in now, and I really could use a hand." No wonder Graham looked wet. Even if it wasn't raining, the spray could have soaked him.

"Sure. No problem. Let me pack up my computer." He had seen the baffled steel collection canisters Graham was talking about. They weren't very large, but if filled, they could be quite heavy, especially if they had to be hauled in against the drag of wind and sea. He had no idea if he could help, but he'd try, if only to spend time with Graham for a few minutes.

The taller man spent most of the trip to the upper deck apologizing. "I'm so sorry to get you into this mess, Wally…"

"I said, forget it. Don't worry, Gray. How hard can it be with the two of us?"

When the two of them emerged on the rear deck soon a moment later, Graham nearly slipped and fell as the ship took a skittish jump on the heaving sea. The ship's lights glared down on them, brilliantly illuminating the wet deck in severe contrast with the wild black void beyond. The wind had risen, too, making it hard to hear voices.

"Here, put this on," Graham yelled, handing him an orange flotation vest.

He was about to refuse it, but then he looked at the sea and changed his mind. The ship lurched under his feet.

"I got a lot of the line pulled in, but I can't seem to get it in any further. I have the cable cinched up, but now it's stuck or something," Graham explained over the gale as he donned the vest.

"You didn't use a winch?" God, he sounded like Javier for just a moment.

"No. I didn't want anyone to know. Stupid."

Well, he agreed with that last part, anyway. He signaled to Graham, and they made their way across the deck to where the cable ran over the side through the railings. He saw where it ran through the arresting mechanism at the gunwale. The rest of the cable gleamed wetly in a heap on the plating. Spray hit him in the side of the face as he grasped the rails and looked over the side. The taut cable hung diagonally against the ship, disappearing into the foaming water.

"I'm hoping it's just resistance, and the two of us can just pull it in," Graham shouted.

He nodded in response. He stooped, disengaged the cable from the cinch and picked it up. Graham joined him on the cable just behind. However, no amount of hauling on the twined metal line made the slightest difference.

He peered over the side again.

The swell lifted the Feigenbaum higher for a moment. There it was. The cable was caught on a metal ladder that ran down the side of the ship, right where the cable looped back on itself. The canister hung below, clipped to the loop.

He turned back to Graham. "It's caught on the ladder. Pay out a little slack," he called out.

Graham nodded and tried letting more cable go. Unfortunately, a moment's observation showed the cable was jammed somehow in the ladder. It refused to budge.

He looked back at Graham and shook his head. Anxiously, Graham made a face, and even though he couldn't hear the researcher say shit, he could read his lips. If they left the canister where it was, the sea and the side of the ship would bash it in. Graham would be blamed for disobeying a directive from the crew. He knew that wouldn't be good for Graham, not at all. He glanced down at the cable again. Still stuck. The slack Graham had paid out slapped against the side of the ship.

He made a decision. Deep breath. Stop thinking.

Before Graham could object, he stepped to his left, put his leg over the side, and made his way down the ladder. Seconds passed, but time seemed to slow to a leisurely pace. The cable was now at his left foot; his sneaker submerged. Grasping the rung with his right hand, he curled over and yanked down hard on the canister and cable with his left. And again. One more swift jerk, and the damn thing was free.

He grinned and held the heavy canister triumphantly, a prize. He looked up to see Graham's face, wide-eyed and stricken.

And in the swiftly narrowing space of slow moving moments, he realized what was about to happen. The Feigenbaum buried itself into a particularly large oncoming wave. He gripped the ladder as tightly as he could, hugging himself and the canister to the side of the ship in the instant before a wall of green-white water hit him.