Chapter Text
The clash of metal and the screams of sailors merged into a single cacophony, drowning out the whispers of the crashing waves. Aviation Machinist Mates and Metalsmiths directed swarms of seamen across the hangar deck — above the wings, underneath the fuselage — working overtime to fix the banged-up planes.
From broken wings to complete airframe losses, the birds had been recovered in various states of ruin. Most needed only a few hours of riveting and welding. But for the planes beyond saving, the men showed no mercy — ripping away intact instruments and cannibalizing engines, leaving skeletons of metal behind.
The surviving fighters and bombers, painted in their gray and light-blue palette, were spotted along the aft and bow in neat arrangement. They bore the numbers five and forty-two, proudly representing their assigned home: Yorktown. Among them were planes with the number two stenciled on the tail — orphaned planes of the USS Lexington.
Even through the aftermath of the Coral Sea, filled with the never-ending blur of radios, reports, and orders — she still occupied a space in his mind.
He had once been one of Lexington's pilots — back when he was still a lieutenant. Twelve years ago it was, yet the time hadn't dulled what she meant for him. She'd kept up their correspondence through his hectic transfers. Brief letters asking for his new billets, always signed with small jokes only they'd understand, and at times with soothing lullabies.
Her bright smile, her melodic voice. She was a dear mentor, a friend to him. And just as fiercely, to Yorktown, who Lexington loved like a big sister and looked over since her first day in the fleet.
Now, she lay in bed, somewhere in the Pacific.
He clenched his hands into fists, jaw aching from the strain. He remembered the exact moment the scuttling happened, when Lexington went up in flames. Yorktown's eyes had widened in horror. Her knees hit the deck, her chest heaving as she struggled for breath.
Even with the heartbreaking sight, even with the bomb that had pierced her hull, Yorktown had forced a smile. The same defiant smile that told him everything was right with the world. Through the tremble of her hands, the cracks in her voice, she made him hesitate as if spellbound.
He should have known better. Should have forced her to recover. Now she, too, lay unconscious inside his cabin. Captain Davis of the Medical Corps had assured him she was stable and merely in need of rest.
He tilted his chin upward, only to meet the brutal proof of what she had endured. The blue sky, visible through a gaping hole in the Douglas fir flight deck. The surrounding steel beams twisted inward like broken ribs.
Below, the hangar deck remained scarred: buckled plates, dark stains, scattered wreckage that the frantic repair work hadn't fully erased. The bomb had punched straight through and detonated deep inside her third deck. Three air intakes were damaged, fire rooms choked with smoke and debris. Casualties too many to dwell on, the very men she cared for so dearly.
He turned his gaze away with a shaky breath. He had been staring too long.
"Skipper."
He looked up. Boatswain’s Mate Higgins approached, wiping grease from his hands on a rag. He gestured toward one of the side openings.
"Hammann's coming across now, sir."
The faintest smile tugged at Robert's lips. "Very well."
A tensioned wire, the highline, stretched between Yorktown's port side and the destroyer. Secure in the Bosun's chair was Hammann, swaying above the churning waves as the crew hauled her across. She glanced down; Robert gave her a nod.
He stepped forward and caught her gently by the waist as she jumped the remaining distance, steadying her landing. Her feet staggered as she hit the steel deck.
"Captain Wallace," she greeted, her voice nearly swallowed by the sea wind.
Gone was her usual quirky energy, replaced by something more reserved. Red rims around her eyes, cheeks tight and jaw set, as though she'd spent hours accompanied by tears. Her cat ears drooped. The grief of her sister ship's loss still hung over her.
"Where is Big Sis?" Her light-blue eyes darted around before settling on him. "I heard she was hurt badly. I had to come. After Coral Sea... after everything with Sims—" Her voice cracked, her body trembled.
Placing both hands on her shoulders, he said, "She's resting in my cabin. The doc says she's stable and just needs time. Shall we check on her?"
She nodded, eyes gleaming briefly, though the grief remained. He held her smaller hand in his, and they walked side by side, passing through the hardworking sailors, toward the nearest ladder.
---
Clacks of shoes against the deck echoed through the dimly lit passageway. Thuds of metalwork were a distant thing, replaced by the hum of ventilation. Soft and pulsating, as if the entire ship breathed according to the rhythm of its soul.
Passing Admiral Fletcher's cabin, they arrived at Robert's own. He opened the door, letting Hammann enter first. Inside, the navy-blue upholstered chairs sat beside half-unpacked boxes, his desk buried under stacks of reports. The air smelled faintly of the familiar nautical cocktail: ink and old paper, Joe and ozone.
They continued into the inner stateroom. Yorktown lay on the bed in her nightgown, silky hair spilling all over the dark cover. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling ever so slightly with each shallow breath. Her face had regained color. Bruises, nearly faded now, still marred her fair skin.
Both of them crouched beside the bed. Hammann's breath hitched, and for a moment she just stared at Yorktown, as if counting each of her breaths.
"Big Sis Yorktown..." she said, eyes shimmering. "How long has she been like this?"
"Since yesterday," Robert replied. "The fatigue finally caught up to her after everything."
Hammann glanced at him. "Why didn't you tell her to rest, Captain?"
"I tried. But I couldn't force her. Not when she looked at me with that smile and insisted she was fine... that she wanted to help the crew."
At his voice, Yorktown's eyes opened, fluttering against the low light.
"Big Sis!" Hammann immediately caught Yorktown's hand.
Yorktown glanced at them, surprise flickered on her face for a small moment.
"Hammann... Robbie." Her voice was hoarse. She extended her hand, her fingertips brushing Hammann's cheek. "Have we... reached Pearl?"
"We should arrive by noon tomorrow.” He stepped back, and moved toward his desk to pour water from a decanter. "We can get you proper medical treatment then."
"I feel completely fine. There's no need to worry about me."
"But you were unconscious for an entire day!" Hammann cried.
Yorktown blinked slowly, her attention shifting from Hammann up to Robert. "Is that right?"
"Yes."
With his free hand, he helped Yorktown sit up. Gently, he eased her back onto the headrest and held the glass to her lips. Her icy hand rested on his as she took small sips, quiet gulps filling the silence. Finishing the drink, she leaned her head against the wood. Her fingers lingered for a fraction of a second.
"Thank you... And I'm sorry for making the two of you worry."
"You're right you should!" Hammann said, her cheeks puffing out. "You can't go fainting on us, Big Sis! I can't take it if something happens to you! A-and who's going to help him with the paperwork?!"
Yorktown let out a weak laugh. "I suppose that is a heavy burden to leave on him, but enough about me. How are you holding up, Hammann?"
Her shoulders dropped slightly. "My hull is packed with survivors from Lady Lexington. And after losing Sims..." She swallowed, then looked up, unyielding, "But I'm handling it. I had to check on you."
"I appreciate the concern, Hammann. You are a strong girl," Yorktown said, rubbing the destroyer's head. Her affectionate gaze then shifted to him, "And, Robbie? Have you gotten any sleep at all?"
"I have. Kiefer's been reliable, and so have the others."
"How about the battle reports?"
"We sent them to Nimitz hours ago. You can rest assured, Yorktown, it takes more than paperwork to bring me down,” he said, steadying his voice.
"But I still wish for you to rest. At least, before Pearl is in sight." Her tone was firm, but with fondness.
He slowly nodded. It was impossible to hide anything from her. "Yes, Ma'am."
Yorktown's expression mellowed before turning her attention back to the cat-eared destroyer.
"And what about Commander True, Hammann? It is unusual for him not to be by your side."
"Oh, I tried to bring him along!" Hammann huffed, her ears twitching up, "But he's been running himself ragged organizing berths and medical care for the survivors. I told him to take it easy, but he just patted my head. He is a stubborn idiot, I swear!"
"That sounds like Harold all right," Robert remarked. "And him staying on your hull is the right call, Miss Hammann."
Hammann whirled on him. "He himself will need treatment if this continues!" she said, crossing her arms. "Also, why are you still calling me 'Miss'? Especially when you’ll be our best man after this war business is over!"
The cabin went silent. The humming ventilation and the creaks of the ship suddenly became loud. Robert's mouth went slightly agape, while Yorktown's eyebrows crept upwards. Hammann's gaze moved between them, as if not realizing the tidings she had just revealed. But her cheeks were soon flushed with bright red, her cat ears pinning flat against her hair.
"F-forget I said anything! T-that's not what I meant at all!" She flailed her arms frantically as she shouted. "W-we were just talking! Hypothetical talk! That dummy is hopeless without me, so obviously we have to plan for the future! It doesn't mean anything! I-I don't know why I even brought it up!"
"Well," he said, a smile tugging on his lips. "You two move fast. And I would be incredibly honored to be your best man."
"Agh! I said forget it!" She squeezed both hands into fists under her chin. "Y-you're a dummy, Captain!"
Beside them, Yorktown let out a giggle, raising a hand to cover her mouth as her shoulders lightly shook. The sound was melodious and warm. Robert hadn't realized how much he missed hearing her laugh.
"Big Sis?!" Hammann said, still flustered red.
"My apologies, Hammann. I didn't mean to laugh, but seeing you and Robbie being so animated..." She cleared her throat, faint crimson dusting her own cheeks. "And I am really happy for you. So, congratulations!"
"T-thank you..." The destroyer whispered a reply.
"...Although, if you do go ahead with the plan, then your Big Sis will be your junior once again."
"Huh? Big Sis, you are a fleet carrier, and I am just a destroyer! You’ll always be the senior ship!"
"In terms of ranks, perhaps," Yorktown chuckled. After a thoughtful pause, she asked, "Do you remember our time on the East Coast? During the Neutrality Patrol?"
Hammann nodded slowly, listening intently.
"Back then, watching you and Commander True, I was a little envious. No, that's not quite right. I simply... wanted something like that for myself."
Yorktown glanced at Robert and held his gaze, soft knowing smiles exchanged between them.
"Even if you love to berate him... You were always honest with your feelings. Never hide how much he meant to you. It was you, Hammann, who gave me the courage to move past that superior-subordinate relationship. Look at us now."
Hammann blinked, and the blush on her cheeks vanished. She puffed out her chest, slapping her hands on her waist. Her ears were twitching, and her lips tugged up into a lopsided grin.
"W-well! I mean, of course!" She stammered, "A good destroyer always leads the way! As a senior, I'll definitely teach you how to handle a h-husband! Don't you worry, Big Sis Yorktown!"
"I will look forward to your guidance, then," Yorktown replied, eyes crinkled with warmth.
Slowly, the frantic energy in the cabin ebbed away, leaving a lingering comfort. They spoke of the trivial, yet beautiful things — how the sunset looked off the West Coast, the crisp autumn air during the Neutrality Patrols, and the places to visit after the ocean was safe again.
The bright laughter, the pleasant conversation, the gentle swaying of the ship beneath them. And her gaze, certain and unflinching, always seemed to find him even as the world around them darkened. Robert hoped that there would be more moments like this.