"Facing one's fears"~ for the Picfic Tuesday Challenge 7/23

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                             

“All these pure things come foam and spray of the sea.Of Darkness abundant, which shaken mysteriously, Breaks into dazzle of living, as dolphins that leap from the sea,Of midnight shake it to fire, so the secret of death we see...” Napoleon Solo shouted from the helm of his boat, the Pursang.

“Must you quote D.H. Lawrence at a time like this?” Illya moaned, green at the gills, just before he leaned his face over the side, to be sick. “You promised me it would be calm. And I quote you," Come on tovarisch, it is going to be a gorgeous sunny day and the bay will be as calm as can be...like one big beautiful mirror."

Hey ‘we can’t control the wind, but we can always adjust the sails’. I’m trying to bring her about to head in, though it’s a little rough as you can see.”

“Quoting fortune cookies are you now,” Illya gagged, as his partner snickered at him.

“Yes, and what of it?” Napoleon frowned. “It’s not my fault the weather turned on us.”

“I can do a little quoting of my own,” the Russian growled, “Perhaps a little Whitman...’ O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red. Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead...”

“Very funny,”Napoleon shot back, just as a spray of water hit him straight in the face. “Smart remarks like that could get you tossed over the side matey.”

“My heart be still...”

“Seriously, you want to swim ashore? I can oblige you, you mutinous Russian."

For a split second Illya actually considered the prospect but quickly abandoned the idea as they were too far out.

“No, but please get us back to dry land where things are not moving. (gag) All joking aside Napoleon, I feel terrible.”

“Sorry chum, I know you do. Tell you what, take hold of the wheel and help me turn her.  I’ll put her under the motor once we’ve done that, and it’ll help us get to the docks faster.

No sooner did he say that, then all hell broke loose, and a full fledged storm erupted around them.

“Take over the helm Illya, I have to lower the sails, otherwise we could capsize...” He handed his partner a life jacket, waiting until he put it on, and donned one himself.

Napoleon fought against the canvas, getting the sails down after a monumental battle with the howling rain-filled wind and tied them off as best he could. He hit the switch, engaging the inboard motor and grabbed the wheel along with his partner, fighting to steer the Pursang safely to harbor.

Land was finally in sight as the storm roared around them, the sky flashing with lightning and the mighty rumblings of thunder. The waves were washing over the deck as the two men fought to keep the boat steady and not be swept away themselves.

“Too rough to get it to the dock,” Napoleon shouted as they entered the harbor. “We’ll have to drop anchor here and ride it out. At least the water’s not quite as rough here.”

The look in the Russian’s eyes was one of complete disappointment. The thought of staying on the boat one more minute when land so close seemed to horrify him.

“If you don’t mind, I really am going to swim for it. I cannot take any more of this; it is worse than being tortured by THRUSH.”

“Sorry chum, Captain’s orders, you’re not going out in that, no matter how good a swimmer you are. I know it’s going to make it feel worse, but we need to get down below...I have to make sure the bilge pumps are working all right. Come on.”

Illya was so miserable that he let his partner shove him through the hatch down below to into the galley. Pots and pans were clanging as they swung to and fro from their hooks. One of the cabinets had popped open and the contents had spilled out, mostly canned goods, rolled back and forth across the floor.

Napoleon opened another cabinet, retrieving pair of large towels. “Here dry yourself off, but don’t change and leave on your life jacket please?”

Kuryakin could see the concern in his partner’s eyes and gave him no argument this time.

“And here, use this,” the American handed him a bucket.

Illya gratefully took it from him, as he felt another bout of nausea rising to his throat.

And hour later the storm finally passed and the water was now like a sheet of glass though no longer the beautiful blue it had been, since the winds had churned the bottom up; the two men emerged from below to survey the damage. Anything not tied down above had been washed overboard, and the mast was split in half. If Napoleon hadn’t brought down the sails when he did, the canvas would have been dragged over the side and most likely have capsized the boat.  

They looked at each other, not saying a word, realizing how lucky they’d been.

Solo weighed anchor, and started up the engine...relieved it worked without a hitch and slowly the wounded yacht motored to the dock. Once there, Illya hopped out, tying off the Pursang.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a good stiff drink tovarisch,” Napoleon sighed, looking at his partner and noticing he was no longer green.

“I will pass, as my I am sure you can understand why...though I may have a glass of ginger ale, but I will keep you company.”

After changing their clothing, and heading out towards the local pub just down the street from the marina, Illya asked Napoleon a question that was nagging him.

“You are afraid of water, so I do not understand this fascination you have with sailing. You have never adequately explained this to me. Why do you do it...go out on your boat, sometimes alone?”

Solo smiled, “I may be afraid of drowning, but by going out on the water is my way of fighting my fear head on. Besides the feeling of freedom while I sail, the wind at my back with no one telling me what to do...there’s nothing like it and is well worth it. You should try facing your own fear of dogs the same way...hey maybe get yourself a dog.”

"So doing this makes your fear go away?"

"No not really," Napoleon shrugged.

Illya stopped and stared at him for a second. “Napoleon, please. You deal with your phobias your way and I will handle mine, my way.”

“Riiiight, that means climbing up a tree when you see a dog,” Napoleon snickered.”Good solution.”

“Hey, works for me...” Illya grinned.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

That's what he gets for being a little naive and taking Napoleon's word about it being calm. Thanks for the compliment!