He wanted to roll his eyes. They'd had this conversation countless times in the past three weeks and he was getting tired of fighting her off. "Your point, Doctor?"
SUMMARY: What if the hallway on seaQuest wasn't the first time Bridger and Westphalen had met?
CODES: SQ, K/N
RATING: PG13
DISCLAIMER: Amblin owns the characters, but the rest is mine, including the island.
NOTES: (Beware, I was in a Jimmy Buffett mood when I wrote parts of this) This one's been bouncing around in my head for awhile now. It all stems from Westphalen's line "I tried to contact you once. They said you were … unreachable," and the premise of what if she had actually found him on his island ...
"Unreachable"
by Liz VanZandt
Nathan Bridger looked up from the plant in front of him as the door to the hydroponics room opened. Jonathan Ford was standing in the doorway, holding a piece of paper. "I just received this message for you, it's from Admiral Noyce."
Bridger tried to control his scowl at the mention of Noyce. It was his friend's fault he was on the seaQuest in the first place, cruising out of harbor and away from the Hawaiian islands, and consequently farther and farther away from his own little island. But he couldn't keep his hand from clenching, breaking off a leaf of the plant in front of him. Bridger looked down at it and then held it out to Ford. "Rhabarbarum," he explained, taking the paper from the young man's hand.
"What?" Ford frowned, confused, rolling the dark leaf between his fingers.
"Rhubarb," Bridger clarified, glancing up from Noyce's message, then back down to continue reading. "The Admiral's wondering if while I'm aboard I might take a look at the main drive propulsion units. Seems there's some glitches in the aqua return jets."
"This mean the Captain won't be returning to the mainland as scheduled?" Ford asked.
"Can't wait to get me off this boat, can you?" Bridger chuckled, reaching up to take his glasses off, letting them fall around his neck.
"No, sir," Ford refuted.
Bridger stepped past the young officer and into the hallway. "All right, Commander. I assure you, I understand. I'm not here to snake your command."
"Snake, sir?"
"Well, are you telling me you don't deserve the command?" Bridger asked. Surely the young man wouldn't be turning down command of a state of the art ship like seaQuest, let alone a chance at command.
"No sir, I'm not saying that at all," Ford replied. He was finding it difficult to follow Noyce's orders and seem arrogant and incompetent, when in fact he was anything but. "The fact is that those decisions are out of my control," he tried to justify himself, settling on a vague response.
"I suppose they are," Bridger agreed. "But whatever the Admiral has in mind, it's not going to work, 'cause I'm not interested in the job." He turned and headed down a side hallway on his way to the engine room.
Ford sighed inwardly. This was not turning out the way he'd planned at all. "Sir, does that mean the Captain is ready to leave the seaQuest?"
Bridger, turned and looked at the other man. While he desperately wanted to return to his island, it was the perfect chance to see what had become of his brain-child. After all, he'd only poured thousands of hours into her design. "Well, I'm here, might as well look around. What the hell," he shrugged.
Ford was about to follow Bridger down the hall when he heard a distant voice calling his name. It was a woman's voice, deep and with the lilting tilt of a British accent. "Commander Ford!"
Behind him, Bridger stilled, his mouth dropping open at the voice from his past. It couldn't be ... could it? But it had to be, he would know her voice anywhere.
Ford grimaced, stepping back into the main hallway to see the head scientist, Kristin Westphalen, coming up the stairs. "Let's get something clear, shall we," she said, striding over to him confidently. "My people will not be treated as so much cargo. We are scientists, we are not mindless military drones."
He wanted to roll his eyes. They'd had this conversation countless times in the past three weeks and he was getting tired of fighting her off. "Your point, Doctor?"
"Your people have occupied areas clearly marked as science research labs. I want them removed immediately," she demanded, her eyes blazing. Though Westphalen was a good six inches shorter than Ford, she was not about to let that stop her from making her point very clear.
"May I remind you, that you are aboard a military vessel," Ford said.
"This is a research and exploration vessel," she countered hotly. Realizing she wouldn't get very far with the brute force method, she retreated and tried a different tactic. "Besides, we outnumber you -- one hundred twenty-four to eighty-eight."
Ford fought not to laugh out loud, but a thin smile managed to escape. "That sounds like a threat, Doctor."
"At least you have a grasp for the obvious."
Bridger, who was by now over his shock, couldn't keep a laugh from escaping. But fortunately it went unnoticed by both of the arguers, at least for the moment. He remembered well this woman's temper.
Westphalen's jibe had hit its mark, and Ford's ire was evident. "Now you understand this--" he stuck his finger up, waving it in her face.
"Don't you point your finger at me," Westphalen cut him off, but before she could continue, the sound of Bridger's laughter registered in her brain. "You find this amusing?" she demanded, turning to him.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," he replied, grinning.
But her sharp retort died on her lips as she realized just who it was standing there. Her hand rose up, clutching at her throat, which had suddenly gone bone dry. "Oh my God, Nathan."
* * *
several years earlier
Kristin Westphalen stepped into the bar, letting the door close behind her. Pushing her sunglasses up onto the top of her head, she looked around, assessing the small, dark, dingy room. In the background, the sounds of an afternoon baseball game filtered through the smoke, the announcers rambling on about statistics. Several of the patrons scattered throughout the room had looked up briefly when she'd walked in, but now turned their attention back to the drinks they were nursing in front of them.
Sensing several pairs of eyes still focused on her, Kristin ignored them, stepping over to the bar. "What'll it be?" the bartender asked, coming over.
"What's the local specialty?" Kristin replied, perching herself on top of an empty barstool, her long legs crossing gracefully. She knew much of the room was still eyeing her warily. Might as well give 'em a show, she figured silently.
"We don't get many tourists in this part of town," the bartender said, reaching for a glass.
"I'm not here on vacation," she replied. "I'm trying to find someone -- a Nathan Bridger. Perhaps you've heard of him?"
He nodded his head slightly. "Sure, everyone round these parts knows of him and his dolphin pal."
She nodded her thanks as he set a drink down in front of her. "Then you know where I could find him."
The bartender gave a chuckle. "Sure, lady. Just go 'bout ten miles straight north-northwest of here and you'll run smack dab into his island."
A quiet laugh rippled though the room behind her. She ignored it, taking a sip of her drink. "Hmm, I don't suppose then that you'd know of a boat and captain willing to take me out there?"
Around her, the room went silent, the only sounds that of the baseball announcers droning away on the satellite TV in the corner. Kristin had the distinct feeling she'd said something wrong.
The bartender leaned over the bar, glaring at her with frosty eyes. "Let me give you a little advice, lady: people come down here for lots of different reasons, but whatever the reason may be, we extend the courtesy not to ask. And if they choose to go off by themselves, we allow them their privacy. You won't find a captain on the island willing to take you out to Bridger's, so if you're smart, you won't waste your time trying. Just turn around and go back where you came from."
"Well if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that nothing is impossible." Kristin stood and downed the rest of her drink, barely managing to keep herself from grimacing as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. She stared the bartender in the eye, tossing a few bills of money on the bar to cover her tab. "I just have to find the right incentive." That said, she turned and walked back out into the bright afternoon sun.
* * *
Jimmy B. wasn't really his name, everyone on the island knew that. But no one could remember his real name either, and Jimmy B. was as good as any. Like many before him, Jimmy B. had come to the islands in an effort to escape the everyday rat race that life had become. Few knew where he'd originally called home, and few cared. Such was the way of life in the islands.
Music drifted out from the cabin behind him as Jimmy B. made his way up to the wheelhouse of his boat, beer bottle safely ensconced in his hand. After picking up and leaving his life in the States, Jimmy B. had escaped to the islands and bought a small boat, chartering out to various people as everything from a fishing guide for tourists to running dope from one island to another. His only companions were a small old black cabin boy he'd befriended several years earlier named Nordstrom and a brightly colored Macaw named Desdemona.
In the distance, Jimmy B. noticed a woman striding down the dock toward his boat. She was about five five or five six and thin, with red hair that seemed to be on fire when the sun hit it just right. Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a white t-shirt she looked almost like a tourist if not for her hands. While the nails were painted a bright red, they were hands that were used to work. Not as callused and rough as Jimmy B.'s own hands, but they weren't the delicate hands of the usual upper class women. All in all, Jimmy B. was intrigued.
"Excuse me," the strange woman called, coming to a stop along the dock near the boat. "I'm looking for Jimmy B. Could you tell me where I might find him?"
Jimmy B. shrugged. "Maybe." He sat down in a chair, propping his feet up casually next to the helm controls. "Depends on who's looking and why."
"My name is Kristin Westphalen, I'm a physical oceanographer working on my doctoral thesis, and I'm interested in talking to Nathan Bridger about some of his work in that area."
"What does any of that have to do with Jimmy B?" His curiosity was now piqued.
"I was told that he could take me out to Bridger's island." She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, and Jimmy B. caught sight of a pair of dazzling hazel eyes. "I'd be willing to pay."
He pursed his lips in thought, weighing the options. On the one hand, she was quite intriguing, not to mention attractive. But on the other hand, Nathan would have his butt in a sling for bringing visitors. "Sorry, can't help you," he replied finally.
But Kristin wasn't about to give up. "It doesn't have to be money. I can get you whatever you want ... beer, food, bird food, ... clients."
* * *
Nathan Bridger looked over as Darwin surfaced by the end of the dock. Once considered the US Navy's top captain on active duty, the deaths of both his only son and wife within a year of each other had taken their toll. After the news of Robert's death in the North Atlantic, Nathan's love of the Navy had soured. The diagnosis of Carol's cancer just a short month later hadn't helped the situation any, sending him spiraling into a deep depression.
To the few friends he still had left, Nathan freely admitted that he was running away when he picked up and left shortly after Carol died. It had simply been too difficult to go on with life at that point. He wandered around the Caribbean for several months, finally ending up on a small deserted island by himself.
Two months into his self-imposed exile, he'd been scouting the beach on the other side of the island when he's come across a dolphin badly tangled in a fisherman's net. And thus began Nathan's affiliation with Darwin. The dolphin had refused to leave, even after Nathan had freed him from the net, leaving Nathan to wonder if dolphins carried some sort of sense of obligation to repay the favor when their life was saved. Nathan's curiosity was piqued and he became intrigued by his new friend, wanting to know everything he could about the enigmatic species.
Whether Darwin knew it or not, he had saved Nathan's life just as surely as Nathan had saved his by giving him a reason to live again.
"What is it, pal?" Nathan asked, kneeling on the edge of the dock. The playful dolphin splashed him, eliciting a chuckle from the man. "I get the hint, you want to play, huh?" He looked up and surveyed the horizon, barely making out the boat approaching in the distance. "I promise to come swim with you later, but I have to wait for Jimmy right now," he explained, straightening up.
Checking the results from his latest string of tests as he passed, Nathan headed for the longer dock down the beach where he knew Jimmy would be arriving shortly.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, Jimmy B's little boat pulled up along the dock. Nathan deftly caught the rope Nordstrom tossed to him, tying it around the post. He frowned, noticing the redhead that emerged from the cabin.
"Pick up a stowaway?" he asked, catching the boxes Nordstrom was throwing off the ship.
Jimmy B. swung over and down the ladder from the helm. "She promised a year's worth of free beer if I'd give her a lift out here. You know me, I never turn down a free beer."
Nathan's eyebrows rose into his hairline as the woman jumped off the boat and onto the dock. "What do you think you're doing?"
The woman looked at him as if he was crazy, turning back to catch a bag that Nordstrom tossed in her direction. "Getting off the boat; what does it look like?"
"Oh no you're not," Nathan replied, taking the bag out of her hands and tossing it back onto the boat.
Jimmy B. reached down and tossed the bag back onto the dock. "Oh yes she is," he said. "The lady only paid for me to take her out here, not for a round trip."
"Then I'll pay you to take her back," Nathan said.
"Sorry, Nathan, no can do. I'm headed straight to the Grenadines to take care of a business transaction, and you know that ain't no place for a lady. I'll be stopping by this way next month, so until then, she's all yours, buddy."
Nathan watched in awe as Nordstrom silently hopped off the boat, untied the rope from the dock, and then jumped back. Before he could formulate a response, the only boat within several miles of the island was headed out to sea.
"You must be Nathan Bridger. My name is Kristin Westphalen and I'm--"
Nathan turned slowly to find the woman standing next to him, bag slung casually over her shoulder, holding out a hand. He ignored the proffered hand, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze head on. "Listen, lady, I don't really give a damn who you are or what you're doing on my island. If we were anywhere else in this world you would be trespassing on private property; but I'm willing to overlook that fact since there isn't really anywhere for you to go. However, and I am deadly serious when I say this, I don't want to hear or see any sign of you until next month when Jimmy B. comes back."
Having said his piece, Nathan stalked off down the dock and along the beach toward his small shack and the equipment stored there, glad that he'd thought to pull on at least a pair of shorts when he got up that morning.
Kristin merely watched his retreating form, smiling slightly. A month was a long time to avoid someone completely, and she could be very stubborn when she wanted to be. Little did Nathan Bridger realize that he may have just met his match in Kristin Westphalen.
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