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i.
It starts with the dramatic episode with the infamous Clair-the-Loon, when they're on their way back to base and the guys are still bickering offensively over minor details like the colour of Clair's hair and which of the crew she'd found the most attractive. They're lingering in the galley, having lunch, and from what Kate can tell from her position somewhere nearby, they all seem far too engaged in their present topic of interest to listen to Chefo's protests.
Nikki watches Kate as she watches them, a hint of disinterest – or could that be disapproval, Nikki wonders? – in her eyes. Nikki is standing close to her, close enough to be heard, but she takes a step closer anyway and leans into Kate's personal space. "You'd think they'd never seen a girl before," she says.
Kate turns forty-five degrees but doesn't quite face her, doesn't speak, and for an awful tense moment Nikki thinks she's made a mistake, but then Kate turns the rest of the way and grins at her, grins wide, and Nikki is so struck by how pretty her XO really is that she has to grin back.
That's when it starts.
ii.
She edges closer and notices that even beneath the heavy coat, Ex is still wearing her uniform. It's two degrees, it's two in the morning, it's two shifts passed her watch and she's still in her uniform. Still on the job.
Nikki tilts her head to the side, wondering absently if Ex ever actually sleeps. She is about to ask a question to that effect when she is struck with the realisation that she's never been alone with Kate McGregor, not like this, not with time ticking grimly away in her mind and the ferocity of the weather their only companion. The disquiet strikes at the part of her that is still an intimidated child, and she hates the ghost of self-conscious anxiety clouding her thoughts.
The apprehension it creates is enough to shake her from her reverie; just as she is turning on her heel to walk away without being detected, Kate turns around and smiles like she's known Nikki was there all along.
Nikki smiles back, awkwardly, acutely aware of her arms and her legs and her tongue, aware of all the reasons Kate McGregor could use to justify her irritation at being disturbed right now ... she feels the blood rush straight to her face, hopes the darkness will mask it.
"Trouble sleeping?"
It takes a second for Nikki to register that Kate has spoken to her. "Yes, Ma'am," she answers stiffly. "I didn't realise you'd be up here. I'll leave if you'd prefer to be alone?" She doesn't mean to phrase it like a question, but she does, and Kate shakes her head.
"No, it's all right. it's your ship, too." There's something troubled in her voice when she says that, like she doesn't quite feel she belongs, and Nikki thinks that maybe there's more to Kate McGregor than a strict and demanding instructor with no sense of humour, after all.
Nikki frowns, takes a step forward. she opens her mouth to say – what, she'll never know, because then Kate has turned her gaze away from the surging waves and fixed it straight on Nikki, fixed her in place, and Kate's blue eyes are piercing even through the dark, her skin luminescent where it catches the rusty glow of the deck lights to starboard. Her voice is steady as she speaks up over the wind.
"Listen, Nav, I've noticed that sometimes you can be – uncomfortable, around me. I don't believe in sugar-coating the truth, so I won't apologise for what happened between us – I was your instructor and you were my student; it was my job to be honest with you." She pauses then, watches for Nikki's reaction. "But I do want you to know that I only criticise those with something substantial to offer. Everything I said to you I said because I can see that you have potential, and I can see you'll make a great officer someday. I also have no doubt that if you put your mind to it, that day will come much sooner than you expect."
It's the most she's heard Kate say since back on HMAS Watson, and it's not at all what Nikki expected to hear. She's surprised by Kate's words but she's also pleased, almost relieved that Princess Perfect, Kate McGregor – notoriously impossible to please Kate McGregor – believes she has enough potential to warrant an unprovoked comment like this. And even though Nikki has cursed her name since the first time they met years earlier, now she's standing here, alone with Kate McGregor in the dark, at two am, and she's fighting the impulse to smile.
She gives in – she smiles, extends her hand to her XO and offers, "Truce?"
Then Kate smiles back, a smile to silence the wind howling manically around them, and she takes Nikki's hand and says, "Truce."
iii.
"Sorry for what I'm about to say, Ma'am, but getting involved with CO is a bad idea for more reasons than those dictated by fraternisation regulations."
At that, Kate's head snaps up and she leans forward, elbows on the table, and demands, "And what might they be?"
The earnest interest lights awareness in Nikki's mind, and when she looks into Kate's impatient eyes and realises what she's just said, she claps a hand over her mouth in horror. "I'm sorry! Oh, Ma'am, I'm so sorry, that was so far out of line and I don't know what I –"
"Nav," Kate murmurs, and even though her words are quiet they break through Nikki's panic. "It happened ashore; we'll leave it ashore, okay?"
Heart pounding madly, Nikki nods.
"Now, tell me why it wouldn't work between –" she waves her hand, an elegant gesture. "You know."
Nikki starts fidgeting. "Oh, Ma'am, I don't really think—"
"Why, Caetano?"
The tone denies any hope of resistance, and Nikki twists her hair around her fingers, trying to work out how she might tactfully phrase her view. She is silent as Kate stares intently into her face, then a sudden roar of laughter erupts from where the guys are clustered around the bar. Nikki starts at the noise; Kate ignores it.
"Why?"
"Because—" Nikki is starting to move out of diplomacy and into exasperation.
"Because why?"
"Because he's not good enough for you!" She blurts it out, an exorcism of honesty that she couldn't have stopped if she'd wanted to, and it takes time for Kate to recover, to decide how she wants to respond.
She holds Nikki's eyes across the table for a moment before she lowers her voice. "If it didn't come as close as it does to insubordination, I'd probably agree with you right now."
And while Nikki is working to pick her jaw up off the ground, Kate looks over to the growingly raucous crowd of guys at the bar, their CO among them, and makes her decision. "Come on, Nav. Let's get out of here."
"Ma'am?"
If Kate notices that Nikki's about to choke on her drink, she doesn't show it. "I'm not in the mood for this," she says.
"For that—"
"The boys' club."
"Yes, Ma'am," Nikki exclaims, with a flourish she doesn't predict but doesn't dislike. She stands, her forearm brushes Kate's with the sudden movement, and Nikki wonders why she's never noticed before that they're the same height. She is about to open her mouth to ask where they're going, when Kate glances back to the unopened bottle of wine on the table behind her and says, "Bring that, won't you?"
And Nikki decides it doesn't really matter.
iv.
She can't stop crying. She's crying floods, gulfs, seas, she's cried the entire Pacific Ocean in the space of two or three hours and she doesn't know why she can't stop it. She doesn't know why she started crying in the first place, doesn't know why any time Josh Holliday's smiling face enters her mind it all seems ten times more dramatic.
Of course, it's just Nikki's luck that her XO -- her roommate, damn it -- walks in when she does, just as Nikki is reaching blindly for another handful of tissues and feeling a fresh wave of tears swell in her throat. She hears Kate's steady footsteps approaching before she sees her, but she has neither the time nor the energy to hide her tears before Kate can stride in.
She doesn't know exactly how she was expecting Kate to react, but she does know it wasn't the way she does -- to rush to Nikki's side, to hitch herself onto the bunk and lean over, her face all compassion and concern. It is a side of Kate that Nikki has never seen, not even in their dealings with poorly nourished refugees in Australian waters; Kate is the essence of calm, she's always strong, always confident and competent and coolly unaffected by what she sees.
Granted, Nikki thinks, Kate had started to thaw a little these last few weeks -- she'd smile occasionally, she'd sit beside Nikki at dinner, she'd strike up a conversation regarding something besides ship's business when they were alone in their cabin. Like right now, with Nikki crying uncontrollably like a school kid half her age and Kate stepping a mile or two out of character to murmur gentle, insistent questions pertaining to Nikki's desire for water or aspirin or chocolate or Nikki, please tell me what's wrong?
Kate doesn't call her Nikki very often. Nikki supposes it's an assumption of intimacy that Kate would consider unprofessional -- even though Nikki has seen her in the morning, sans hairbrush or coffee, wearing decidedly not-regulation purple pyjamas too sizes too large -- and Kate is not one to relinquish that shield of professional detachment without a fight. The thought skims through her mind in a second; it's fast enough that her face won't betray any physical evidence, but it's time enough for her to be suitably touched by Kate's quiet consideration.
Kate seems to watch the emotions flicker and change across Nikki's face, and she says, It's okay, Nikki. You can trust me," and that's the last of Nikki's defences washed away on a fresh wave of tears. The next thing she knows she is spilling her heart out to Kate's patient ears, telling her everything about how she met ET while they were offshore and how great he was, how it'd been so long since she'd found someone nice who didn't treat her like a child or look at her funny when she told them she hung out on a warship for a living.
(Kate actually chuckles at that, and she says, "I understand," and Nikki believes her.)
But the more she talks to Kate the more she feels her gloom is lifting, the more she cries the more his face seems to blur behind her eyes; the more she becomes aware of her own dramatic response to the ... non-situation ... the more she thinks it's all an overreaction.
"That's not why I'm upset, though," Nikki tells her, once she's calmer, words that come muffled from behind a wad of tissues. "It's so stupid. I don't even know why I'm upset."
"It's okay," Kate says again. "Stress builds up for all sorts of reasons." She reaches across to squeeze Nikki's shoulder, a show of support to accompany still surprisingly gentle words. "It's healthy to vent."
"Is it healthy to use up the ship's entire supply of tissues in one afternoon?"
"I'll replace them when no-one's looking. Our secret."
Nikki smothers a smile. "Promise?"
"My word as an officer of the Royal Australian Navy."
Nikki shrugs. "I guess that'll do."
The impulse to hug Kate is one she follows before she can really think it through, and while Kate seems surprised at first, stiff and unfamiliar in her arms, it's only a moment before she relaxes and hugs Nikki back. And Kate is tiny but she's stronger than she looks; Nikki can feel the press of Kate's muscles against her own with electric awareness, feel the pulsing warmth of Kate's skin, her steady heartbeat.
Nikki had intended the move as a gesture of thanks, a non-verbal expression of her gratitude for Kate's understanding, Kate's patience and -- dare she think it? -- Kate's friendship, but to her dismay she's found herself distinctly aware of just how close they are, of just how little space and material really separates their bodies and just how comfortably they seem to fit together. Nikki draws in a steadying breath, wrestling her thoughts, and she is about to pull away when CO chooses that moment to make his grand entrance, and Kate does it for her.
"Sir," she says sharply. "Is there a problem?"
"No," he says. There's a vaguely amusing look of bewilderment drawn over his face, and he says, "No," again, like he's trying to determine what exactly it is he's walked in on. "No problem, Ex. I thought I'd lost you for a second, but -- here you are."
"Here I am."
He spies the litter of crumpled tissues on Nikki's pillows and frowns. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, Sir. Everything's fine, Sir."
"Fine. Right, Ex; carry on, then. Nav."
"Sir."
He nods to both of them and walks out the door, brow still furrowed, and Kate makes sure that he's into the hallway before she turns back. She smiles at Nikki, a geniune smile, the lightning smile she keeps tucked away in some secret pocket of her uniform, so rarely seen by the crew of Hammersley. Kate smiles, and Nikki melts a little further into her sheets, feels herself falling.
"You'll be all right," is what Kate tells her, not an option.
"I know."
Nikki watches her go and thinks, Yeah, I'll be fine. And grins.
v.
It starts just as Nikki starts to think of her a friend, just as she starts to think that maybe, just maybe, Kate has started to see her as something more than a junior in rank or a child -- (and Nikki Caetano isn't a child; she's twenty-six and she isn't a child anymore) -- Kate goes and does a spectacular one-eighty and freezes her out.
The first thing Nikki thinks is that this isn't like her, not like the Kate she's come to know over the last few months, the woman behind the uniform. Bound to the uniform, Nikki finds herself amending, as she watches Kate tidy invisible mess off the floor of their tiny cabin.
Kate hasn't spoken a non-professional word to her in three weeks, and Nikki's starting to run out of ideas. In desperation, she raises the topic of her own unclear career path -- it's not a topic she often likes to discuss, or even think about, but she knows that Kate will have an opinion and that if Nikki asks her, Kate will want the chance to express it.
It doesn't work out quite like she'd hoped. Kate gives her a lecture, switches into high school principal mode and dictates to Nikki a list of her viable options, complete with relevancy and convenience to her interests and qualifications, the main point of which seems to be: you need to take initiative. Halfway through it Nikki considers faking an asthma attack, but then Mike Flynn's voice filters over the PA system and they are called, thankfully, to the deck.
She doesn't ... take any initiative, after that. She's getting worried, she wants to help, she wants to grab Kate by the shoulders and shake it out of her, whatever the problem is, but Kate needs her privacy and her distance and Nikki respects that. Sort of.
Apparently other people have noticed the change in her, as well, because one quiet morning CO calls them in to his ready room for a word. He rests against his desk as they stand side-by-side in front of him, their arms by their sides, their hips and shoulders a hairsbreadth apart, while he speaks sombrely to them about the standard of their interpersonal—
Nikki tunes out shortly after the verbose introduction, though she could swear that at one point she hears him say, "I expect you to at least make an effort to get along," to which she feels like protesting that she's not the one with the trust issues. (Maybe it's that he takes himself so seriously in the midst of a larrikin crew, the antics of whom even has Kate grown to appreciate, but Nikki has found Mike Flynn to be -- just privately, of course -- a little ridiculous. Nevertheless, she makes certain to set her mouth in a serious line, to "Yes, Sir" and "No, Sir" where appropriate, to give the appearance of rapt attention.)
He sets them free with the promise of keeping an eye on their progress, and Kate leads the walk back to their cabin, mumbling grumpily about how the whole thing is ridiculous because they clearly get along already, don't they?
Nikki thinks that it's a rhetorical question; she might even be sure that it's a rhetorical question, but Nikki has learnt a few things since Kate came aboard the Hammersley, and one of them is how to read when she's hiding something. The way she is now. Nikki steels herself for the lash and tries the direct approach. "Not lately, we're not."
"And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?"
Nikki's expecting it, so she keeps herself calm, pulls a classic McGregor on the master. "What's wrong?"
Kate glares at her. "Nothing's wrong."
"I don't believe you." Nikki steps forward. "Tell me what's wrong."
"No."
"Tell me."
"No."
Without warning, Nikki lunges, pushes Kate against the wall and leans in close, pins her wrists beside her head. Her face is an inch away from Kate's, she's breathing faster than she realised, and she has no idea what to do next. She did this on instinct, to catch Kate off guard, to shake her up, to make her talk, and instead she's displaying her own indecisiveness and possibly letting Kate in on a secret she'd rather Kate not be aware of.
I want her, Nikki thinks, with a jolt that shoots straight through her veins down her spine to her toes. I want Kate. That's the secret.
They are both so shocked by what's just happened, and the fact that nothing has happened directly afterwards, that an almost comic stretch of time crawls past before either moves. Then Nikki refocuses her gaze from the distant reflection and looks to Kate's eyes, right into Kate's eyes, bigger and deeper and bluer than Nikki has ever seen them, and she whispers, "Tell me, Kate."
"What the hell is this?" Kate growls, her cheeks flushed, her chin raised, her shining eyes belying the tone of anger, and Nikki delights a little in the realisation that this is her doing, that she has been the one to displace Kate McGregor's famed composure. "What are you doing?" Kate demands again.
Nikki eyes her for a long moment and then she says, "Taking initiative." And she waits, waits for Kate to see what she's doing, the opening she's offering, and she gives Kate these long moments to change her mind, to run away, to call for help – she waits, and she holds Kate's eyes, and she doesn't move. (Nikki Caetano is twenty-six and Kate McGregor is twenty-eight -- they're not children any more, and Nikki is intent on letting her know it.)
Kate doesn't move either. Time slows to a stall, to a place where there is nothing but their eyes, their eyes and the silence and the molecules between them; Kate doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't blink as though for fear of breaking the delicate balance, the suspension, so close to being broken already. Nikki is staring at her, unabashed, drinking in the sight of her bright eyes, her slightly parted lips, and just as she starts to think that she could stay here like this forever, Kate shakes her head and says, “What? Why are looking at me like that?”
Nikki debates the wisdom of lying, goes with gambling the truth instead. "You're just ... very beautiful, Ma'am."
That seems to throw her, a little, and Kate is not masking her emotions as well right now as she usually does; she is, perhaps, not used to receiving compliments so genuine or so blatant. But she recovers from the slip quickly, watches Nikki a moment longer, and seems to come to a decision: Nikki feels it, feels like a thrill, like a chill up her spine, like all the air in the room has suddenly vanished; like that is the power of Kate McGregor's mind once she's made it up. She straightens her spine, just minutely, schools her features into a sternness belied by her sparkling eyes, and says, “You know that this could count as sexual harassment?"
Nikki takes a step forward, half expecting Kate to bolt, but her confidence buoys when Kate stays where she is. "I haven't heard you objecting.” She reaches up, brushes a loose lock of hair from Kate's eyes. “Do you?"
Much to Nikki's gratification, Kate sounds vaguely distracted when she murmurs, low, “Do I … what?”
“Have any objections?”
Kate doesn't answer; it's almost answer enough, the way Kate is tilting her head sideways to lean into Nikki's touch, the way she's half-closing her eyes – Nikki dares, she takes a risk, and she reaches down to toy with Kate's messy braid, pulls it free to slide her fingers through the strands.
Nikki wants to kiss her, God, she wants to kiss her and make her mind up for her, but she isn't going to rush this; if Kate is going to make this decision, she's going to make it because she wants it. Maybe she'll regret it, later, but Nikki refuses to let her regret it because she felt she wasn't in control.
“Nikki,” Kate mumbles, tongue running over her lips once, twice, and Nikki expects something more, expects a stop or a wait or a we need to talk about this, but nothing comes. Instead, Kate's hand slides over to grab Nikki's other; she only realises what's happening when she feels those cool, thin fingers grip around hers, stronger than she would have expected, sure.
Nikki squeezes, once, lifts Kate's hand to examine it as she might a piece of jewellery. "You're so delicate, Kate," she whispers. "So soft." She bends forward and brushes her lips across the back of it, kisses her knuckles and then her fingertips, then she turns Kate's hand over to kiss the inside of her wrist, and Kate draws a sharp breath in. She says, "I could have you up for insubordination for this," just as Nikki takes a step closer, nudges her nose against Kate's collarbone.
"Not that you've given me any orders yet." She breathes the words against Kate's skin, feels Kate shiver in response.
"Don't tempt me," she mutters, and Nikki pauses at the implication, so unwelcome and so unwanted but too important to ignore. She moves away, just a step, forces herself to release Kate's hands, tries not to think that they were so close …
She braces herself and asks: "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," Kate says. "Maybe." She runs her fingers up Nikki's arms, over her overalls, and Nikki feels goosebumps erupt all over her skin, even beneath the cumbersome clothing. "Later?"
"Later works too." Then Nikki takes a little initiative with her lips, and Kate doesn't object.
*
A week or so afterwards, CO ducks his head into Control and says, "Ex, Nav -- can I have a moment?"
There is only one answer to that question, so Kate leaves Swain and follows her boss out the door, Nikki half a step behind her. Flynn beckons them in when they get to his cabin; they stand side-by-side in front of him, their hips and shoulders brushing through their uniforms. He smiles at them like a satisfied parent and says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you two had grown to like each other."
"Aye, Sir," they say together, and Kate smiles over at Nikki, who tries not to replay the memory of Kate's hands in her hair, Kate's lips on her neck, Kate's skin pressed warm against hers, and doesn't succeed. Doesn't care.
"Aye, Sir," she echoes sweetly. "We've managed to find some ... common ground."
"I'm glad to hear it," Mike says, with evident delight that entertains Nikki more than it probably should. "Keep it up."
"Yes, Sir," Kate says. She glances over at Nikki, who has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. "Yes, we intend to."