Author: Carol
wsh2@webtv.net
Pairing: Lee/Harri
Rating: PG; slash
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; no infringement intended.
Notes: Fourth in the series.
Voyage Journey 4: The Mist of Silence
by Carol
Admiral Harriman Nelson sat at his desk, thinking about the death of Seaman Farrell at the hands of a firing squad. Although the loss of any of his crew always disturbed the Admiral, Farrell's death was particularly tragic since his beloved Lee Crane had been forced to stand by and watch the man die. When they returned to the SEAVIEW from rescuing Fuentes, Lee Crane had been extremely quiet. The bearded-face, and tired eyes proclaimed the deep trauma that the young man was feeling. Nelson had insisted that all crew members involved in the rescue get some rest before returning to duty.
It was now several hours since their return. Nelson, himself, felt better after some rest and a shower. He had informed Washington of Fuentes' rescue and their ETA in Norfolk. Now, he was waiting for Chip Morton's report on the status of the SEAVIEW. Clicking on the intercom Nelson asked, "Mr. Morton, are you ready with the report that I asked for?"
The voice that answered, however, was not Chip Morton's, but Lee Crane's. "Uh, Mr. Morton is not in the Control Room right now. He is with Chief Jones seeing to some storage problems. I'll be happy to tell you the report information, sir."
Vaguely angry that his exhausted Captain would already be back in the Control Room, Nelson decided this would be a good opportunity to talk to the workaholic Captain privately. "Fine, Lee. Could you bring the report to my cabin as soon as possible?"
Vaguely puzzled by the Admiral's request that he deliver the report in person, Crane turned over the conn to Bobby O'Brien and walked to the Admiral's cabin. Knocking on the cabin door, he was immediately admitted.
Nelson looked up at Crane and saw that the beautiful young man was once again his immaculate self - no beard, clean uniform, tie in place, but still the tired eyes. "Lee, did you get some rest?"
Laying the report folder on the Admiral's desk, Crane replied, "Yes, I did, but I didn't sleep well so I thought I could relax a little in the Control Room."
Nelson smiled affectionately at his friend. Only Lee Crane would find it relaxing in the Control Room of the several million dollar vessel. "Good, Lee. I know how traumatic this last mission was for you. I just don't want you to exhaust yourself."
"Yes sir, do you want to hear the report?"
It was obvious that Crane did not want to talk about Farrell's death at the moment so Nelson allowed himself to be diverted by hearing the beautiful voice, reporting the status of the gray lady. When Crane finished, he stood up, preparing to leave, but Nelson decided he was not going to let this precious man leave without trying to comfort him in some way.
"Lee, I know basically what happened when you were thrown in prison, and I've read your report, but is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
Crane sat in silence for several minutes, then in an angry voice, he blurted out, "You mean like why did I let Farrell die?"
Since Harriman Nelson was a man and a commander well-known for doing his duty, he knew that Lee Crane was not really expecting Nelson to tell him that he should not have done exactly that. As usual, Lee Crane was taking the guilt for the death of his crewman on his shoulders and this outburst was the outward manifestation.
"Lee, you didn't let Farrell die. Every man on that prize ship knew the dangers. It could have been any one of you. It sounds like D'alvarez planned it so that you would see the crew die, just to have a lever against you.
"Yeah, well, he did a great job. If you hadn't rescued us, Patterson would have been next and then Ski. "God, how I wish it had been me."
Crane's face had turned a deathly white as he said those words. Exhaustion radiated out of every part of his body. His head dropped to his chest; he was the epitome of total defeat.
"Lee, don't ever say that. Don't you know how much you mean to me? I know how much the crew means to you. I am disturbed, too, by Farrell's death, but it wasn't your fault." As Nelson said these words, he noticed how Crane seemed to wince and shrink further into himself.
"Lee Crane, you are too good a man and too good an officer not to recognize that sometimes those of us who have been given the burden of command have to do things that we would rather not. I have noticed that you always seem to prefer to risk your own life rather than that of a crewman, but this time, you could not do a thing about it. Place the guilt where it belongs - D'alvarez gave the orders and if he were not almost assuredly dead, I would do everything in my power to see him up on charges of murder - and not just for Farrell, but all the others, but right now Lee, it's you I'm concerned about. Don't let this get you down or D'alvarez did win."
Crane continued to hang his head, but his breathing seemed a little steadier. Quietly he whispered, "You wouldn't have let us get into that mess - you would have figured someway to save Farrell."
Nelson got up and went over to the other side of his desk so that he could be closer to the slender body. "Lee, I'm not a miracle worker. I can only do so much. It's true we were in the country at the time Farrell was shot, but we had to wait, otherwise, it would have been suicide. Don't you think that that fact weighs heavily on me? I think to myself that if we had launched our attack a few hours earlier, we might have saved Farrell, but we also might have got everyone killed, and then, there would have been no one to rescue you."
Lee Crane looked up into the blue eyes of his friend. "You saved Pat. We tried to escape, but they were too strong for us. I should have done something."
Nelson nodded slightly, "Patterson told me that you tried to escape earlier but got your eyes full of the same stuff that blinded me temporarily. Lee, you tried your very best, no one can ask more of a person. I can't tell you to forget it because, as a caring individual, you take every death deeply into yourself, but give yourself some time, Lee. That's all I ask."
"Yes sir. I sat down and wrote a letter to Farrell's parents. Somehow just putting it down on paper helped. I guess I'll go see them when we get home."
"Good, Lee. Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, but I want you to know how much I care about you. When Detta, the resistance fighter, told me that one of my men had been killed, my heart filled with such dread .. ."
"Well, of course, it would, sir. That's natural."
"No, Lee. You don't understand. When she said one of you had been killed, I was terrified that it was you. When she said it was Farrell, for a brief second I was relieved. What kind of person does that make me, if I feel relief that another man is dead?"
A small, sad smile graced Lee Crane's lips. "I guess it would make you a pretty normal person, sir. Now you know how I feel when you risk yourself. Every time you go out and put yourself at risk, my heart feels like it is going to burst or stop, until you return safe and sound. I guess that tells you that I have my favorites, too."
"Bless you, Lee. I have never been quite sure how you feel about me. I know we have become good friends, but, Lee Crane, I would like our relationship to be so much more. I know this is not the time to discuss this. Right now, I want you to go to your cabin and get, at least, eight hours sleep - THAT IS AN ORDER, is that understood?"
Lee Crane gave a beautiful smile - his first smile in several days. "Aye, aye, sir."
"That's better, young man. Then, when you get done with that sleep, you will report back to me in this cabin, and we will have the best dinner that Cookie can provide. Then, we will go into greater detail about this new relationship that you and I are planning. Understood?"
Crane looked affectionately into the blue eyes. "I will follow your orders to the letter, but I want you to do me a favor"
"Oh, and what is that?"
"Well, you've had a pretty busy several days and your eyes got shot with that stuff, too. I think it would be good if you got some rest as well."
"Lee, I have some reports to read and write, so . . . ."
"Sir, if you do not get some rest, then I will not feel inclined to follow orders."
Grinning a beautiful smile, "Is this a mutiny, Captain?"
"You could call it that, sir."
"All right, my dear Captain. Let's compromise. You rest in your cabin for four hours; that will give me time to do my reports, etc. Then, we'll get Cookie to fix us up something special, and then we'll . . . uh. . . play doctor for awhile to check out all our aches and pains, how's that?
For a moment Lee Crane stood incredulous, then he came to strict attention and saluted. "Aye, aye, Admiral . . .er . . . Doctor, I will report at exactly18 00 hours for my physical."
"Very good, my dear patient. Let's just hope that the Doc never hears about us practicing without a license!"
The End