Two days stranded on a tropical atoll in the middle of crystal clear waters sounded like paradise on paper. In reality, it was hard work, especially with wounded men and women to care for. But despite the hard work, the spirits of those who were stuck on Nuelo together were holding steady. They weren't exactly happy, but neither were they depressed, pulling together in hope and stubborn determination. Thanks to the expertise of the professors, they had no shortage of food safe to eat; thanks to the knowledge and skill of the crew, they had somewhere safe to sleep.

The general attitude of the entire group, however, improved dramatically on the morning of the second day, when Dex pushed himself to sit up and demanded to be taken to the shallows so he could wash the dried blood from his good leg. They'd managed to stop his bleeding, and despite his weakness, he was strong enough to sit with Suzie and tell her dirty jokes as she helped him wash himself in the soothing salt water. It was a very good sign, made better by the fact that there was a sail visible on the horizon. Things were definitely looking up.

As for James, he had taken up the role of captain as easily as if he'd been born to it. Like Ashlyn, the sea was in his blood and he knew how to incite loyalty in his crew and offer hope to each and every one of the survivors. Though he didn't give himself enough credit, it was partly because of him that so many of them had survived and not succumbed to their injuries, including the first mate. Two days stranded on an isolated island would have dampened the spirits of most anyone, but James had survived far worse circumstances and refused to give up hope just yet. That second day found him supervising the construction of a makeshift shelter, so that if the weather turned bad, they would not be caught in the freezing rain.

"Captain!" The yell came from one of the students - Reg, one of the boys - as he came stumbling across the sand, waving the precious spyglass in his hand. "Captain, the ship, it's turning this way! Look!" The boy thrust the spyglass toward James, not even noticing Ashlyn nearby.

She didn't even try to hide her smile at his excitement; despite her injuries, no one had been able to keep her from involving herself in the various tasks tha kept them all busy.

"Where?" James asked, though the question was unnecessary. As soon as he peered through the spyglass, he saw what the boy was babbling on about. "Looks like we have company," he said, handing the spyglass to Ashlyn, shouting orders to light the signal fires they had set upon the beach. If those on board somehow misjudged where they were, the fire and smoke should draw their attention.

"Where am I pointing this thing?" Ash asked as she took the glass, glancing along the beach as the crew scurried to light the fires built out of deliberately unpleasant wood that would produce clouds of dense smoke. She raised the glass to her eye, missing the ship by inches. "Seriously, where am I looking?"

"Does that look like your cousin's ship?" James shouted from where he stood on the beach supervising the fires. He didn't quite notice that she wasn't pointing the spyglass in the right direction, but it wouldn't be long before it wouldn't matter. Whether the ship was looking for them or not, the fires burning on an island that was known to be uninhabited would soon attract their attention. He only hoped those on board the ship were friends and not foes.

"Where?" Sweeping the glass back and forth, eventually Ash got a sighting on the schooner heading toward them. The smile on her face was enough to give him an answer; she couldn't read the nameplate, but she knew those sails. Even if it wasn't Rica, the enormous GG embroidered on the sailcloth declared the ship to be friendly. "It's a GrangerGuild ship," she told James, her short huff of laughter making her wince painfully as she handed him the glass. "Quicker than we thought."

He took the glass from her, swinging his gaze in the direction of the ship and those pristine white sails, that had an odd effect on his heart, making it ache with longing. It wasn't just the sea that he loved, but the ship itself, gliding so gracefully across the water, and he found his heart aching to set sail again aboard a ship of his own. She was not the Jolly Roger, no, but then she wasn't a research vessel either. She was as graceful as a swan and as lovely as a pearl, and he felt his heart beating a little bit faster in anticipation.

Ashlyn watched his expression, feeling her smile grow. She had a feeling he was going to get on with Rica just fine, especially when he found out what century her cousin had learned her seacraft in. Hopefully that was Rica out there, and not just a generic captain of the Guild fleet. "C'mon, captain," she encouraged him with a gentle hand on his arm. "We're getting out of here. Let's get people packed up and ready to board when they get here."

"She's a beauty. Your cousin is a lucky woman, indeed, to be her captain," he said, peering longingly at the ship that was approaching for a moment longer before she coaxed him out of his reverie. There was still a lot to do before they were rescued. "Aye," he replied, wasting no time in handing out instructions and gathering people up, along with whatever possessions they'd managed to salvage from the wreckage of the ship.

It took a few hours for the ship to come close enough to drop anchor and put out her boats, but by the time she was that close, Ashlyn knew for certain that it was her cousin's ship. There was Rica, standing in the bow of the first rowboat to reach the shore, leaping out to wade through the shallows, grinning her familiar grin.

"Took you long enough to get here," Ash teased her, more relieved than anything to see a familiar face.

Rica snorted, looking her over. "Well, you look like stomped over crap," was her own greeting. "Where's your captain, kid?"

And there he was suddenly, standing right behind Ashlyn, as if he'd been there all along. He couldn't really take credit for being captain of the vessel, though he was the only one left capable of taking charge. "James Radcliffe," he said, stepping forward to offer a hand to the woman. If he was impressed or even surprised by her looks, his expression failed to show it. He looked merely happy and relieved for their rescue. "I'd offer you a drink, but I'm afraid we're fresh out."

"Maverick Granger, captain of The Star of the Ocean," Rica introduced herself, shaking his hand robustly. "You don't look much better than Ash, here. How many are we finding berths for, captain?"

"That's quite a mouthful, isn't it?" he asked, a bit of a smirk on his face, despite his own ragged appearance. "Twenty-five survivors, four dead, none unaccounted for," he replied, matter-of-factly. Dexter was the most seriously injured of the bunch, but now that they'd been rescued, he was hopeful the man would recover, even if he had lost a leg.

She nodded, absorbing his matter-of-fact recitation calmly. "Just a moment." Turning away, Rica opened her mouth, and a voice that could only have been trained on the sea bawled out her orders along the beach for her own crew, who were drawing up in rowboats. "I don't care how many trips it takes, we've got all day!" she ended with, grinning at the good-natured grumbling that came her way as she turned back to James and Ash. "Salvaged everything you need to salvage?" she asked then, glancing to the reef where only the tip of Mauretania's bow was visible above the water.

"Aye, as much as we could," James replied, though he thought that question was one Ashlyn would be better off answering herself. They had managed to salvage as much of the equipment and personal possessions as possible, though he was unsure about her research.

"She just had a pretty close brush with her own mortality," the older woman pointed out with a twinkle in her eye. "Ask her again." Her smile, however, faded as she came to the shaded place where they had laid out their dead, sparing blankets to cover the men and woman who had died in the storm. Dropping to one knee, Rica removed her hat, sighing softly as she murmured a quiet prayer to help their souls find their way.

He, too, fell silent, his thoughts turning to those of the dead he'd barely had a chance to get to know before the sea had taken their lives. "He was a good man, the captain," he said. "He believed in me and gave me a ....a second chance," he said, his voice catching. "They were all good sailors and fine people," he added, his voice trailing off. They had also known the risks when they'd signed on board, just as had he.

"The sea can be a fickle mistress," Rica said quietly, rising to her feet. "Not always the most reliable mistress, either." She was confident in saying that; she'd been sailing almost all her life. "But I've never known her take someone who wasn't ready to go, one way or the other."

"Aye, well, I'm not ready. Not yet," he told her, unsure if he believed that the sea only took those who were ready. "When I die, I want it to be of old age. And I want to go first. I don't think I could bear to watch her go before me." With any luck, that wouldn't happen for a very long time. He didn't mean to be morose, but having just had a close brush with death, it was hard not to think about it a little. "There was a time when I thought all I ever wanted was a ship," he said, but that had been before he'd met Ashlyn.

"Maybe you'll go together," Rica suggested, glancing at him with a faint smile. "Seeing as she's the other part of that bargain you made." She did know the ocean, after all; it didn't take a genius to work out that Ashlyn was a part of James' second chance. "You'll get home safe," she promised him. "The Star is a lucky ship."

"What then?" he mused aloud. Oh, he knew Ash would go back to the museum and her classes and studies. She'd always have that, but what about him' She knew what it was like to have the sea in your blood. He'd never be happy for too long on land. At least, the house they were building was near the sea - there was that.

Rica's smile was mysterious as she set her hat back on her head, stepping back to allow her crew to gently begin lifting the bodies from the sand. "Oh, things have a way of settling up to your satisfaction," she told James confidently. "I daresay you'll be surprised what comes out of this. I hear the Old Man is incandescent with fury about coming so close to losing you two."

James winced, wondering if his head was going to be on the chopping block for putting Ashlyn in danger. "You don't think I'm to blame?" he asked, though he already knew the answer to that question. "I'm cursed, you know. First the Jolly Roger and now this." He didn't bother to mention what the name of the Roger was before she'd become a pirate ship.

"No one is to blame when a Nexus storm strikes," Rica said firmly. "And if you're cursed, what does that make me?" She chuckled, nudging him none too gently. "If you were cursed, you'd be on this island all alone. Don't forget that it could have been much, much worse. Do all the English dwell on the what ifs and the worst, rather than on the good?"

"Dwell?" he echoed, narrowing his eyes at her defensively. "When you've seen some of the things I've seen, lass, you learn to expect the worst." And yet, she was right - it could have been a lot worse. He didn't even want to think about how much worse it could have been. "You're right. I should be grateful the goddess was watching over us. I am grateful. It's only ....Why does my first trip to sea have to end in disaster" Makes one wonder if they aren't unlucky."

"Lass?" Rica snorted, rolling her eyes. "I'm older than you, lad, so watch it. Friendly warning, since you're family." His continuation made her smile fade. "As I say, bad luck is bad luck. Could be any number of reasons why it happened on your first trip. Could even be a test by our mutual friend out there. Maybe she was looking to find out just how much you love her, and how much you love Ash."

"And just how does this test that?" he asked, gesturing around them with a wave of his hand. "Four of my crewmen are dead, and the first mate's lost a leg, all for a test' Oh, aye, she's a harsh mistress, that one. But when I look at your ship, with her crisp white sails, all I long to do is sail her," he admitted, turning his gaze back toward the sea and the ship that was waiting for them there.

"She's a force of nature, we're not supposed to understand her," Rica pointed out. "She's not supposed to understand us. She'll never understand why you're mad and hurt over these deaths; in her mind, she saved you and she saved your mate, and that's what matters." She followed his gaze back to where The Star lingered at anchor, her own expression deeply fond for her ship. "All I need is a wet sheet and a following wind, and she'll take me wherever I want to go," the Granger woman said quietly. "Seems to me you're the same, in your way. Figure I can probably swing the Old Man in the right direction for you."

"All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by," he quoted quietly, his heart yearning for the sea, despite the inherent dangers, and he knew in his heart the captain and the dead crewmen wouldn't have had it any other way. They'd died, yes, but they'd died doing what they loved. No sailor could have asked for more than that. "You and I are of like mind, lass," he said, his eyes lingering for a moment longer on the white-sailed lady, before turning to her with the barest hint of a smirk on his face. "I was born in 1717. I'm willing to wager that makes me your elder."

Rica leaned away as she looked up at him. "If you're offering to be my big brother, mate, I've already got four and I can beat the crap out of them with ease," she informed him in a comical tone. "Sure you want to join the ranks of the emasculated?"

He barked a laugh at her, practically daring her to try. "Only reminding you to respect your elders, miss," he replied with a wink, proving he wasn't feeling as defeated as he seemed. He'd been a seaman and a pirate for too long to give up now.

"Rica," she told him, giving him permission to address her the way her family did. "Ever call me Maverick, and I will emasculate you. My parents wanted another boy." She shrugged, her smile lopsided but warm. "C'mon, captain. Let's get you and The Star acquainted, shall we?"

His thoughts turned briefly to the sister he had never known, but he said nothing of it. That had been a long time ago, centuries ago, and it had little bearing on the man he'd become. "James," he replied, returning the favor. "Aye," he added with a grin. "I'm anxious to make her acquaintance."

A last sweep of the beach assured them both that nothing and no one had been left behind, and the two captains were quickly taken aboard the last rowboat to where The Star of the Ocean awaited them. As the little boat bumped against the side of the ship, Rica yelled up to her bo'sun cheerfully. "Lower that damned cradle, man, Captain Radcliffe's injured!" She glanced at James as the cradle was lowered for him to take the easy way up onto the main deck. "Not havin' a man with cracked ribs climbing the ropes."

He fell silent on board the boat as they made their way closer to the shining white lady that lay before them. She was a wonder to his eyes that made his heart burn with yearning, blinking quickly to banish the moisture from his eyes. He arched a dark brow at the ship's captain, wondering how she knew he'd been injured. He'd tried hard to hide it, but then, she hadn't become a sea captain without certain powers of observation. "My pride may be wounded, along with my ribs," he remarked, but made no argument. There was no point in taking the more difficult route. He had nothing to prove, and he was weary and worn.

"I'm an alcoholic, actually," Gil offered honestly. "Captain Granger keeps me on board as a healer. She put me through cold turkey a few years back, but every time I leave the fleet, I drink. She's stubborn enough to keep me on just to keep me sober, I think. Thanks to her, I have my wife and children back, just so long as I stay away from the bottle."

His answer only made James more curious, that brow of his arching higher, as the man gave him more information than he needed to know or had asked for. "I see," he replied. "I can tell you from experience that you won't find any happiness inside a bottle," he told the man further. "Why precisely do you drink, other than the obvious?" he asked, with a brief glance to Ashlyn, wondering if she was going to remain quiet and present while the other man tended to his wounds.

Gil shrugged, gesturing for him to sit down. "Started so long ago, I can't really remember the why," he admitted, glancing over at Ashlyn, who was pretending not to be listening while rooting through the clothing in the chest. "Could be that I was just tired of being a healer. That's why I ran away to sea, anyway. Which side are these ribs, then?"

James furrowed his brows, assuming there had to be more to the man's story than that, though he didn't want to pry too deeply. "You have a gift for healing, and with that gift comes responsibility," James said, not wanting to judge the man, but simply to understand. "Left side," he said, as he took a seat, his gaze straying to Ashlyn again, wondering why she seemed intent on ignoring them.

"But it is very easy to burn yourself into nothing while exercising that gift," Gil said heavily, and it was clear he knew what that burn out was like. He laid one hand over James' bruised and cracked ribs, scowling fiercely for a long moment. Then he removed his hand, apparently pleased with himself, and turned his attention to inspecting the captain's head for bumps and cuts.

Before the man could do anything further, James caught hold of his wrist and pulled it away from him. "You don't need to do anything. I will heal on my own," he told him, not wanting to make the man feel he was obligated to use his abilities if he was too worn out to do so. "I've had far worse than this."

"Captain, this is nothing," Gil assured him, shaking his head. "I once worked three days without more than a few hours of fitful sleep, healing the injuries of hundreds of men, women, and children who had been caught when some utter bastard blew up an entire quarter of their city. I did not rest, I barely ate. More people lived because I was there than would have if I had taken myself away. Healing ten people of relatively minor injuries in a single afternoon is not hardship for me."

"And you do not think this is a gift?" James asked curiously. He could see where the man might think it more curse than gift. Even if he was helping people, it must be exhausting. The frown returned to his face as he considered someone who needed far more help than he did. "Is there nothing you can do for Dexter?" he asked, referring to the first mate who'd lost his leg to sharks. Just the thought of it almost made him shudder, reminded as he was of the croc who'd eaten his hand once upon a time.

"Personally' No." As Gil spoke, his gentle fingers found the injury on the back of James' head, applying his gift to healing it and the consequences of it as they talked. "I can, however, put him in touch with someone who may be able to do something more than I have done. All I can do is heal the stump and take the pain away; she may be able to give him a living prosthesis. I understand it is easier with recent amputees."

"Is that all that can be done?" James asked, with a heavy heart, feeling the guilt all over again. He knew what it was like to lose a limb or part of a limb, but he had been lucky enough to have been given it back. He wasn't so sure Dexter would be so lucky, unless, perhaps he intervened. Even so, what were the chances the goddess would grant him such a request twice" "A prosthesis," James echoed, grimly. Well, that was better than a pegleg, he supposed.

"It is his choice, whatever can be done," Gil shrugged. "The loss of a limb is not the end of the world, though it can seem that way, I am sure. I cannot regrow limbs. That is a magic far beyond anything I am capable of." Satisfied with his work on James' skull, he looked the captain over. "Anything more, sir?"

"No, that is all," James replied, glumly, hardly noticing that the ache in his head had eased and he was able to take a breath without being in pain. "Thank you, Mr. Christian," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"If you need anything else, sir, I'm sure Captain Granger will yell for me," Gil nodded, with a surprising touch of humor in his tone. He glanced toward Ashlyn, and lowered his voice for James' ears only. "I can only heal physical wounds, sir. Your wife has pains I can't help with, but perhaps you can." Nodding once again, the man straightened and took his leave, making a point of closing the door firmly behind him.

James nodded his head, turning his attention to Ashlyn, whose back was still facing him, wondering if the pain she was feeling was the same as his. He watched her quietly for a long moment after the healer had left, wondering if she even knew he was there.

It did seem to be taking her a long time to find clothing in a chest full of clothing, but eventually she pulled out a handful and rose to her feet, letting the chest fall closed. "Rica's bo'sun gave me some clothes for you," she offered James, gesturing to a bundle on the bunk. "You know, in case you want to change."

Of course he wanted to change, but that wasn't his main concern at the moment - she was. "Never mind that now. Come here," he told her, extending a hand to draw her close.

She was avoiding his eyes, the relief of being somewhere safe, on a ship she knew with her cousin at the helm almost too much to take in. It was that relief, however, that was allowing other feelings to come to the surface. Twining her fingers with his, Ash eased down onto the bunk beside him, her eyes fixed on their joined hands. "We're going home."

"Aye," he replied, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. "You're safe now, love. We're all safe." Those of them that had survived, anyway. "We'll be home soon, and all this will be over." He didn't bother to point out how much worse it all could have been, finding he was about to repeat Rica's words in an attempt to give her comfort. "It wasn't your fault, Ash. Not yours or mine or the captain's or anyone's. It was just a freak storm that no one could have predicted." It wasn't even the fault of those aboard the warship, really, as they'd been taken by surprise as much as them.

"People are dead," she said simply, her voice very small in the quiet of the cabin. "People I knew, people I called friends. They're dead. They're not going home to their families, not like us. And the kids that I'm responsible for ....they're traumatized. They might never want to get on a ship again, never get a chance to indulge that first love of the sea because this has scared them off her forever." She swallowed hard, finally raising her guilty, wet eyes to meet his gaze. "I really screwed up."

He understood her feelings of guilt and remorse, perhaps more than anyone else because he shared them, but he also knew those feelings were unwarranted. She was no more to blame for the disaster than he or anyone else on board was. He touched her cheek, a look of infinite patience and sympathy on his face. "Tell me, love, how did you screw up, as you say?" he asked, wanting her to really think about it in hopes that she'd realize she'd done nothing wrong.

"I am not opposed to being married at sea, nor would I be opposed to a lavish wedding. I will do whatever your heart desires, love," he told her, touching his nose to hers before sealing that promise with a kiss, leaving the decision for her to make.

She narrowed her eyes at him, laughing as he kissed her and effectively cut off her accusation that it would be his wedding, too. "One of these days, I'm going to get a straight answer out of you," she informed him quietly. "How about I surprise you, instead?"

"If you wish to be married on board ship, I shall need a change of clothes," he pointed out, with a crooked roguish grin, though he was not sure that was what she had in mind.

She snorted with laughter. "I'm sitting on your change of clothes," she pointed out warmly. "But we can't throw Rica out of her own cabin just because we're impatient to be newly-weds." That was a good point; they were on a ship normally crewed by thirty, but currently holding fifty-five. Tight quarters was not conducive to a successful wedding night. "Leave it to me," she suggested impishly. "I promise, we'll tie the knot before Dom does."

He couldn't help but echo her laughter, glad to see her smiling and laughing again. He knew it would be touch and go for a few days, but at least, it was a step in the right direction. "It's not a competition, lass," he said as he pulled her onto his lap, though he was perfectly willing to let her make the arrangements and the decisions, just as he said he'd be.

"I know," she promised him fondly. "But they deserve the big fuss, and everyone's attention on them. Elle loves to be fussed over, and Dom would do anything for her. I'm not like that. I'm not girly; I'm not a princess. I'm yours, that's all I want to be."

"You deserve to be fussed over, too," he told her, but he wouldn't press the matter. He was perfectly happy with a small wedding, so long as she was his. "What do you have in mind, love?" he asked, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear, a warm smile on his face.

"You and me," she murmured. "Dom, Elle, Daisy, Mom ....the sea." Her eyes flickered with a little sadness, wanting her sister to be present, too, but as yet seeing no way that might happen. She was supposed to be working on making Isabelle tolerate being in the same room as most of the family for Dom's wedding, after all.

He arched a brow at the very small guestlist, though it didn't bother him in the least. "Rica?" he queried, wondering if she thought that cousin should be there, considering she had just rescued them. "What about your uncle?" he added, though if they invited Humphrey, they might have to extend that invitation to the others who lived in the main house, and he wasn't sure she wanted to do that. He spotted the frown, knowing her well enough to know what it was about. "You're thinking of your sister, aye?"

"It could happen," she mused, in response to the thought of getting Humphrey there. But James really did know her too well, her smile returning as he put his finger smartly on the reason for her momentary frown. "I miss Izzy," she admitted regretfully. "She might never forgive me once I've talked her into going to Dom's wedding."

"Why not talk her into going to yours?" he asked, thinking that would mean a lot more, especially since it was to be a much smaller affair. "I don't know what your sister's problem is with your family, but she shouldn't let it get in the way of being part of your day."

"Maybe," Ash shrugged lightly. "She made it pretty clear to me last time we spoke that my opinion is neither required or asked for. I just miss my big sister, that's all." She hugged him fondly. "It'll pass. It always does."

"Have you told her that?" he asked further, only just realizing they were both still covered in sand and sweat, and to a lesser degree, blood. He carefully moved her aside so that he could get to his feet and shuffle over to the wash basin, where clean water awaited. "Family is important, Ashlyn. If it means that much to you, perhaps you should tell her." This was coming from a man who had no family left of his own, which only made him appreciate it more. He picked up a jug of water and poured it into the basin, before dipping a clean cloth into the water and moving back to her to wash the blood and sand from her face and hands.

She sighed softly as he moved her gently aside, wriggling to pull his change of clothes out from underneath herself. "I'm frightened to tell her," she confessed to him, letting him clean her skin as though she were something precious. "What if I do, and ....it means nothing to her" That would hurt more." She shrugged, her smile deepening wryly. "I know, I'm an awful coward."

"At least, then you will know," he told her, unsure which was worse - the not knowing or the worrying her sister didn't care. He said nothing more about it, but made a mental note to speak with Rica or Elle about it later - maybe they could help.

"I guess." Ash shook her head, leaning close to kiss him. "Aren't you supposed to be letting me look after you a little, too?" she asked him affectionately. "All I'm seeing and hearing is me going on about my problems and my feelings here."

"Are you going to begrudge me the pleasure of spoiling you a little?" he asked, as he dabbed some dirt from her cheek, once she was done kissing him. "There, you almost look presentable," he said with a grin, emphasizing the almost.

"Almost, huh?" Her smile returned - tired, but warm and fond. "If I promise to change my clothes like a good girl, will you promise to talk to me when you're ready to?" she asked him gently, her fingers smoothing against his cheek. "I'm not asking you to do anything before you're ready to. But I'm here, when you need me."

He shrugged his shoulders, noncommittally, as always. "There's not much to say, lass," he admitted, unsure what exactly it was she wanted him to talk to her about. The past was the past; nothing could be done to change it, and dwelling on it didn't solve anything either. "I assume you heard me talking to Christian about Dexter," he said, turning his back on her so that he could return to the wash basin and scrub his own face and neck and hands. It seemed there was something he wanted to speak to her about where Dexter was concerned, anyway.

She watched him move away, listening more to the way his body language spoke than to the words he chose to give her. They had learned one another very well over the past few months, after all. It didn't surprise her that he had taken what had happened to Dexter so very much to heart, having experienced something similar himself. "I did," she agreed, rising to her feet to start shucking off the skimpy clothing that was torn and dirty, and generally inadequate for being at sea.

"I'd like to do something for him," James said, amidst the scrubbing of blood and sand and grime from his face. "If I could, I'd bargain with the goddess for a new leg, but somehow, I don't think she'd agree to it. Christian said something about a ....I believe he called it a prosthetic. A fake leg?"

"You can't make a deal for someone on their behalf," Ash pointed out, shrugging into a clean shirt with an audible sigh of relief. She and Rica were roughly the same size, though she was definitely less busty than her cousin. "A prosthetic leg would be the logical step for him," she told James, sitting on the edge of the bunk to work on getting her pants up her legs comfortably. "They're very advanced. Some are even made with magic - they're known as living prosthesis. They feel and behave like the real limb would, though all prosthesis have to be removed at some point, either for comfort to sleep, or to recharge, or whatever."

He took up a cloth to pat his face and hands dry, peering at his face in the mirror someone had hung in front of the wash basin. The usual scruff on his face was quickly becoming a beard, but he'd have to wait until they got back to give it a good trim. "I'd like to help somehow. I feel rather to blame for it."

Pausing as she laced up the waist of her borrowed pants, Ashlyn didn't try to tell him not to feel the blame. Wasn't that what she had just cried all over him about - knowing she wasn't truly responsible, but still feeling the guilt for what had happened" Tugging her laces snug, she let the shirt fall over the knotted cord at her waist, looking over at him with sad, understanding eyes. "We'll pay for whatever he needs, the best of the best," she suggested. "And if he tries to refuse you, I'll charm him into taking the help. Because I wouldn't trust anyone else to be your first mate but him, you know."

"I'm not in love with Rica, Ash. I'm in love with you," he reminded her, even if she didn't need reminding. He moved to his feet to slide his arms around her waist, while she worked on her braid, distributing a few soft kisses to her bare neck.

"That doesn't mean you don't have eyes," she laughed, leaning back into him as his arms wrapped about her waist. She sighed softly, letting herself be soft, vulnerable, in his arms for a long moment. "It won't be long before we're home," she told him softly. "And I swear, we're not getting out of bed for at least two days."

"Hmm, before or after we're married?" he asked, pausing only a moment to speak before touching further feather-light kisses to her neck. He knew if they tarried much longer, they might get distracted from checking on their people, but after everything they'd been through, he didn't much care.

"Mm ....both?" she suggested, tilting her head to show him her cheeky smile as he continued to ply her sensitive skin with kisses. If only they had been alone to be rescued from that island, she might have let him seduce her into staying right there with him, but her responsibility toward five traumatized teenagers would not let her linger until she was sure they had settled in their new sleeping quarters. She patted James' hands at her waist, making an effort to straighten up as she turned to face him. "Later," she promised tenderly, cradling his jaw in her hands as she kissed him. "I gotta go play Professor Mom."

"Does that make me Captain Dad?" he teased, leaning close to touch a kiss to her nose. As much as he wanted and needed to have her close, it would have to wait until later. Business before pleasure, as he'd said. They both had responsibilities and duties to tend to before they could rest and relax, and though James felt like he could sleep for a year, he had a feeling they weren't going to have much time to relax until they were safe in harbor and on dry land again.

"I guess it does," she grinned impishly. "Remind me to take a test when we get home ....no birth control out here." She winked at him with a playful cast to her smile, slipping out of his grasp before he could pull her back and demand to know if it really was possible she might be carrying his child. "C'mon, captain, you know you want to explore."

It took a minute for him to realize what she was telling him. He wasn't quite sure what she'd meant by a test, though he was aware of some modern means of preventing pregnancy. He had puzzled over the word "condom" for some time before he'd sorted it out, but he had never actually used one. "A test?" he echoed, a little puzzled, before her meaning finally hit him. "To see if you're with child?"

"Mmhmm. I doubt we're gonna be completely chaste for the next week or so, after all." She gestured to him to come with her as she headed for the cabin door. "Don't stand there with your tongue in a knot. It's all academic right now, anyway."

"Academic?" he echoed, unsure what she meant by that. "Ashlyn, are you ..." He trailed off, for once in his life, at a loss for words. It seemed she wasn't too sure herself, but if there was any chance she was pregnant, he was going to spoil the hell out of her, even more so than he did already.

She paused by the door, meeting his eyes with a gentle smile. "I haven't been able to take anything to prevent it from happening for three days," she told him calmly. "I don't have anything I can take. So unless you're going to tie my legs together for the duration of this trip home, there's a chance that, yes, I'm going to get pregnant. Just a chance. We'll know when we get home and I have access to modern medicine."

"Does that worry you?" he asked, arching a brow. He couldn't think of anyone who might have a problem with it, except maybe her brother. He would have mentioned the possibility of wearing a condom, but it didn't seem polite to ask her such a thing, even if had some, which he didn't.

She considered that for a moment. "Well, it's not the order I'd want to do things in," she admitted with a rueful smile, "but I can't say I'd be unhappy. I want to spend my life with you, James. That kind of includes children. Okay, so this might make it sooner rather than later, but it doesn't change the way I feel." She frowned a little as she looked over at him. "Why, does it worry you?"

"Nae, lass, why should it worry me?" he replied, frowning a little, as he was uncertain of his own response. "I, uh ..." He furrowed his brows in thought. "'Tis just unexpected, is all." Having a child or children changed things a bit, but he assumed it was something they would have ended up doing sooner or later anyway.

"You look worried," she pointed out, her smile gone but the humor still there in her eyes as she gestured to him. "Whether I am or I'm not, there's no way to know until we're back in Rhy'Din, and there's no reason to think that the second I'm not taking a pill every day I'm suddenly going to ovulate and trap you into being a daddy before you're ready. It's a chance. It's not a certainty."

"Trap me?" James echoed with a chuckle, at last. "Lass, do you think I would be unhappy about having a child?" he asked. Of course, he was surprised by the possibility, though he wasn't sure why. After all, he'd known all along there was a chance she might get pregnant, and for his part, he'd done nothing to prevent it.

"I, uh ..." Ashlyn shrugged, laughing a little at her response. "I don't know. Having a child is putting roots down on land, and the sea is a part of you. I really don't know how you would react to that conflict, especially since we haven't worked it out just between us yet."

"Mmm, there's an old saying I've heard ....At least, I'm told it's old. Let's cross that bridge when we get to it?" he said, touching a kiss to her cheek. "Try not to worry so much, love. No matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere."

"All right, all right," she smiled, nuzzling into him for a moment before remembering what she had been planning to do. She poked his chest with a teasing smirk. "You're distracting me again, you bad boy."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said with a smile as he started toward the door. "I believe you wanted to make the rounds," he reminded her. Though all he really wanted to do was get some rest, he agreed that they should make sure the survivors were settled before they could do the same.

"Yes," she nodded firmly. "Yes, I do. Traumatized teens and all. And you want to nose around the ship a bit," she added teasingly. "I know you." Pulling open the cabin door, she smiled, the brisk rush of cool air off the sea whipping her braid back over her shoulder and shaking loose strands to frame her face. "Wow, she's moving fast."

"Aye, she's a splendid ship," James remarked, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with the salt air. "I have to say I envy your cousin. She's the kind of ship I'd like to captain one day." It was more than he'd planned on saying, but at least, he was being honest.

"Oh, really?" The secretive smile his fiancee flickered in his direction was all kinds of suggestive, but she said no more, squeezing his hand before heading to the hatchway that lead down to the gundeck below, where the crew slept, ate, and spent their leisure time if the upper deck was in use.

"Aye," he replied, frowning thoughtfully at her response. "Is that so very hard to believe, lass?" he asked, wondering if she was just teasing him or if she really didn't believe what he'd said.

"No, not at all," she assured him fondly. "It's just ....interesting information to know, that's all." He knew that look on her face; the sweetly secretive smile that suggested she was planning a surprise for him in his very near future. "Do you think Rica would let me use her satellite phone if I asked really nicely?"

"I know that look, love. The wheels in that pretty little head of yours are turning," he said, gesturing with a hand to his own head in a circular motion. "And you are changing the subject again," he added for good measure, an amused smirk on his face.

"I know, I'm good at that, aren't I?" No, she wasn't answering the unspoken question, or justifying the change of topic, simply giggling as she ducked through the hatchway and down the near vertical steps onto the gundeck below.

"Not good enough," he murmured just loud enough for her to overhear him. "I will find out sooner or later," he warned her. She wasn't the only one who got anxious about surprises, it seemed. Though he wasn't sure what she was thinking, he thought it must have something to do with a ship.

Oh, it had something to do with a ship, all right. And if he thought hard about it, he would realize he already knew what surprise she was cooking up in her mind. All it would take would be a little chatter with a family member or two, and with luck, it would all be settled by the time they got home. Ash grinned to herself as she turned to greet her students, swinging in their hammocks. This was going to be fun.

((Well, that was an adventure, wasn't it' Never fear, Rica will get them home safe!))