"The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(7/?) by Susan Jameson
(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)
See part I for archive info, disclaimers, etc.



~~~~~

USS Annapolis 
In the Adriatic Sea
As Jim Saw It

~~~~~

The news spread around the boat like a thermonuclear shockwave.
Everywhere you went, there were men standing around looking hollow-
eyed and shocked, some of them frankly red-eyed, all of them moving
like automatons.

They call us the silent service, but I don't think I've ever seen a
submarine crew that was quite so silent.

I can't even begin to tell you how I felt when the captain made the
announcement. I was feeling about a thousand things at one time,
starting with guilty because I'd been such a bastard the whole time
Mr. Donaldson was sick and ending up worried sick when I realized that
my brother had just lost a patient.

The skipper made it clear in his announcement that Mr. Donaldson was
as good as gone when Daniel got there; he praised Daniel and Corpsman
Turner to the skies, in fact, and I got no sense at all that anyone
was blaming either of them. That didn't mean Daniel wasn't going to
blame himself.

I had things to do. So did he. But God, I wanted to just drop it all
and go see him. It sounds so stupid and so third-grade, but I was
upset and I wanted my brother.

I knew he wanted to see me, too, but I also knew I wasn't first on his
list. That had nothing to do with how he feels about me: He just had
other priorities. He had to meet with the captain.

Man, that had to be weird. It was kind of weird for me, just thinking
about it; my brother reporting to my CO at their very first meeting
about how my department head had died under his care. It was almost as
strange as realizing that Daniel wouldn't be addressing the CO as
"sir." They're the same damn rank.

And then there was the much less pleasant job of getting Mr.
Donaldson's body ready for transport back home, which Daniel and
Turner did together, I guess.

Jesus, it was so strange ... while Daniel took care of all that and
did the endless paperwork -- there's always paperwork -- we did all
the normal things that we do when we're on the surface. The tender
pulled alongside; we took on supplies and got some repairs made, some
of the guys went aboard and got their teeth worked on, the rest of the
crew went topside and got some sun... nobody really felt like
sunbathing, but the captain didn't make it optional, and it is pretty
important to get sun when you can. God knows when it'll happen again.

Basically, it was all the stuff that normally makes a day on the
surface a really good day, one you look forward to.

Not this one. It was like being taken out of real life and dropped
into some kind of television show about your life, only one that
didn't quite get it right.

I stayed in engineering, working with the electricians from the tender
and waiting to be notified that the captain was through with Daniel.
The XO had actually come all the way to engineering himself to tell me
that he was going to make sure Daniel and I got some time together,
which made me feel a whole lot better. 

I thanked him for it, too, believe me. He kind of brushed it off, but
I could tell he appreciated it. He was just doing that XO thing they
do.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Ben Holder came to relieve me
and to tell me that Daniel was in the wardroom and that the skipper
had said we should take all the time we needed.

"I need about a year," I said. "Think the old man'll go for that?"

"Only if you want to spend it at Leavenworth," Holder said, but he put
his hand on my shoulder as he said it, just for a second. I gave him a
half-smile of thanks, then I headed up the forward ladder, hoping like
hell I'd think of something to say before I got to the wardroom.

When I got there, Daniel was the only one there; everyone else was
either asleep, topside soaking up rays or busy with the tender crew.
He was finishing up what looked like an inch-thick stack of paperwork.
He looked tired, which I expected, and there was a kind of unhappiness
in his eyes I'd never seen before, but I'd kind of expected that, too.


What I hadn't expected was how pale and shocked he looked, almost like
it was someone in our family that had died.

He looked up when I came in, though, and he smiled, and some of that
look went away.

"Give me a second, okay?" he said, sounding a lot more like my brother
and a lot less like a senior officer than he had earlier. "I've just
got to sign my name about six more times and then I'm done."

"Not a damn thing happens in the Navy without paperwork, does it?" I
said, sitting down opposite him. "I think they've already got about 43
sets of forms ready for use on the Judgment Day."

"And every one of them has to be filled out in triplicate, I'm sure,"
Daniel said, shaking his head as he scratched his name across the rest
of the forms. 

"I don't know what the rules are," I said. "I missed the OPNAVINST on
that one."

Daniel sort of smiled at that, although it was pretty weak even for
me. He didn't say anything else as he flipped through the forms,
checking, I guess, to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Then he
stacked them back on the table and looked around.

"That's all for now," he said, softly. "You know, the really perverse
thing is that it seems to take a lot longer to write it down than it
did to happen."

"What the hell did happen, Daniel?" I said. "He kept saying he had
headaches, but he never acted like he was really sick or anything. How
the hell does a 40-year-old man just get out of bed one morning and
die?"

"I can't tell you for sure," Daniel said, with a shake of his head. "I
can guess, but it's no more than that until the autopsy's done. But it
was probably a congenital aneurysm, based on the symptoms. It could
have been there his entire life and no one would have known unless
he'd had a CT scan or MRI for some reason."

"So it just broke open?" I said. "Is that all?"

Daniel shook his head again. "There was a contributing factor, but
keep this to yourself," he said. "The captain ordered his lockbox
opened a little while ago; there were three bottles of aspirin in
there. The aneurysm was probably causing his headaches, but the
aspirin was what made the bleeding so severe. A real Catch-22."

"Oh, Christ," I said, feeling a little sick. "He was taking aspirin so
he could stay on duty."

"I told you to drop that," Daniel said, sounding more like an officer
again. "Whatever his reasons were, they're going with him to his
grave." Then his voice softened again. "But he had to have brought the
drug with him when he boarded, Jim. All the bitching in the world from
a junior officer isn't going to make aspirin appear under the Adriatic
Sea."

"Daniel, this is so fucked," I said, shaking my head. "This just makes
no goddamn sense. Mr. Donaldson was young, he was healthy. There is
just no way this should have happened. He shouldn't be dead."

"I know that," Daniel said, quietly. He didn't say anything else, and
I suddenly realized how what I'd said must have sounded. 

Open mouth, insert foot. I oughta get that tattooed on my ass. What a
huge useless piece of thoughtless shit I am. 

"Jesus Christ, Daniel, I didn't mean it like that," I said, in a low
voice. "I'm not implying that there was anything else you could have
done. I know you better than that."

Daniel laughed, but it was a pretty goddamn hollow laugh. "I wish I
were that sure," he said. "I mean, from a purely clinical standpoint,
I know what happened and I know that even if I were a neurosurgeon and
this had happened at Bethesda, I probably couldn't have done anything
that would have made a difference. But... still, I can't help looking
back, second-guessing myself ... " 

He stopped there.

"And you want me to let myself off the hook," I said, sitting back and
folding my arms across my chest. "Isn't this where I say, 'Physician,
heal thyself'?"

"Not if you want to go on living, little brother," Daniel said, with a
faint smile. "Do you have any idea how sick I get of hearing that?"

"About as sick as I get of hearing that submarine life must have its
ups and downs?" I said, grinning at him. 

Yeah, I know. Nothing was funny. Mr. Donaldson was dead, and my
brother was doing his damnedest to blame himself. Why the hell do you
think I was cracking wise at him?

And it goddamn well worked, too. Daniel laughed.

"Old jokes never die," he said, still laughing. "They just join the
Navy."

"Hey, you can't talk about me like that," I said. "I may be a joke,
but I'm not that old."

"No, but your jokes are," Daniel said. "John Paul Jones knew most of
the punchlines." 

"You oughta know," I retorted. "Wasn't he a classmate of yours at
Duke?"

"Ow," Daniel said, clapping one hand over his heart in mock pain.
"That was really low. Almost as low as your grades at Annapolis."

"Yeah, well, you know what they call the guy who graduates last in his
class from the Academy," I said. 

"The anchor," Daniel said. "A distinction you didn't miss by much, as
I recall."

"Stick to the subject," I said, shaking my head. "They call him the
anchor at graduation, but eventually, they call him admiral."

"You know, I really get tired of hearing you fucking ringknockers go
on about your superior credentials," Daniel said, with a pained
expression. "You know, your commanding officer is an ROTC graduate,
and his career seems to be progressing all right."

"Christ, Daniel," I said, in admiration. "You're actually learning how
to swear like a sailor. There may be hope for you in my Navy yet."

"I always knew how to swear like a sailor, Jim," Daniel said, mildly.
"The difference between you and me is that I always knew when not to."

"Touche," I said, with a bow of my head. "Maybe that's why, in spite
of everything, you've always had better luck with women."

"Ironic, isn't it?" Daniel said, smiling. Then his smile faded.
"Speaking of which, have you heard from Dana recently?"

Oh, shit. He would have to ask. 

"Uh ... actually, I haven't heard from Dana in about two months," I
said, uncomfortably. "I've written to her a few times since then, but
she hasn't answered... unless there's something in the mail the tender
brought today, but I'm not betting my pay on it. I'm guessing she's
just not interested anymore."

"I don't know about that," Daniel said, rising from his chair and
pouring himself a cup of coffee. "She may just not feel up to
writing."

"Why wouldn't she feel up to writing?" I asked, puzzled. "Is she sick
or something?"

Daniel stopped -- hell, froze is more like it.

"She didn't tell you?" he asked, cautiously.

"Tell me what?" I said. This was beginning to spook me a little.

"Oh, God," Daniel said. He took a swallow of his coffee and sat back
down, but he didn't say anything right away.

"Daniel," I said, warningly. "I want to know. What's wrong with Dana?"

Daniel gave a huge sigh. "She has cancer, Jim," he said, very slowly.
"A very rare form and, unfortunately, difficult to treat. The
prognosis is very poor."

The prognosis is very poor. The prognosis is very poor? That was total
doctor speak. Why the hell was Daniel doing that to me?

I didn't know. But I knew I didn't like it one damn bit. And I
_really_ didn't like being kept in the dark.

"Daniel, don't fuck around with me," I said, furiously. "Tell me what
the hell that means in English, because I don't really think I want to
let you hide behind that goddamn doctor shit right now."

"I believe you'd better rephrase that, Mr. Reilly," Daniel said,
sharply, and I froze like I'd been dipped in liquid nitrogen. 

Oh, shit. I was batting a thousand in the foot-in-mouth league today. 

See, Daniel's my brother, but he's still a full damn commander, and he
wasn't going to overlook that kind of disrespect, especially not at
sea.

I was in for it.

"Don't forget where you are, mister," Daniel said, coldly, "and don't


presume on our relationship. I realize you're upset, but that does not
give you license to be insubordinate. Don't ever address me or any
other senior officer in those terms or with that kind of language
again. I will not tolerate it. Have I made myself quite clear,
lieutenant?"

"Perfectly clear, sir," I said.

"Do you have anything else to say to me?" he said.

"Yes, sir," I said. "I apologize for my conduct, sir, and I offer no
excuse for my behavior. I have the utmost respect for you as an
officer and a brother, and it was not my intention to be
insubordinate. You above all deserve better from me. It won't happen
again, sir."

"See that it doesn't," Daniel said, curtly.

"Aye, aye, sir," I said.

Then I let out my breath. Thank God that was over. I hate getting
reamed out, but getting reamed out by Daniel was a hundred times worse
than getting reamed out by anyone else.

I wasn't pissed at him; embarrassed and upset, yeah, but not pissed.
He was right to chew me out. The way I had gotten in his face was
unquestionably detrimental to good order and discipline, especially if
any of the enlisted men had heard me. After all, if I don't treat my
superiors with respect, I'm not very damn likely to be treated with
respect myself.

Anyway, no one speaks to a superior officer like that. No one. In
fact, it was a damn good thing no one else was around, or Daniel might
not have let me off as easily as he did.

There was one hell of a long, uncomfortable silence after that, which
Daniel finally ended. Well, hell, he's always the one who knows what
to do.

"What it means, Jim, is that she's not very likely to live," he said,
without looking up. "There's not much chance at all, in fact. I'm
sorry. I know there's been something building between you two ..."

"Apparently not," I said. I wanted to say more, but my mouth felt dry.


"No," Daniel said quickly, and now he was looking at me. "Don't take
it that way. That's just the way she is. She didn't tell anyone at
first; not even her own mother. Dana keeps things inside, Jim. It's
not a reflection on how she feels about you."

"I think it is," I said. "She told you, Daniel."

"No, actually, she didn't," he said, simply. "Fox told me. And I don't
know whether she would ever have told me on her own. I rather doubt
it. But I think it's belaboring the obvious to say that you and I are
not in competition for Dana Scully, Jim."

"Not in that way, maybe," I said, bitterly. "But in every way that
really matters? Every part of her heart she hasn't given to her
partner, she's given to you. I used to think it didn't matter, that
there was a space left with my name on it. I guess I was wrong."

I looked up at Daniel, who was watching me with mild surprise, but
also with sympathy ... and with the love my big brother had always had
for me, the love that said he'd protect me from this if he could.

"Don't," I said.

"Don't what?" he said, gently. "Don't feel bad about it? I can't help
that, Jim. Because you're not wrong, you know; Fox and I do have a
special place in Dana's affections. And I'm not going to tell you that
I don't encourage it, either, or that Fox doesn't. But it doesn't mean
you don't have a chance with her."

"Daniel," I said, "in case you hadn't noticed, that's exactly the part
of her life that I was interested in."

"It's still there," Daniel said. "It's just closed off. She's been
hurt badly, and she's not willing to be hurt again anytime soon. But
if anyone could get her to open up, I think it would be you. You know
what it's like to be hurt that badly."

"With all due respect, sir," I said, quietly, "please don't bring that
up. I still don't feel like talking about it. Besides, is there even
any of her life left to have, Daniel? I mean, how far has this thing
gone?"

"I'm sorry," Daniel said, just as quietly. "I shouldn't have mentioned
it. As far as Dana is concerned, I don't know. I wish I did. Dana
isn't telling anyone that, and it's her right to keep her medical
history private. She hasn't even told Fox."

"Have you talked to him about it?" I asked.

Daniel shook his head. "Not really," he said. "A few e-mails, one
ship-to-shore call ... we can't ever really talk, you know."

"Yeah, I know," I said, quietly. "And I'm sorry as hell, too. It's not
fair."

"Life's not fair, Jimmy," Daniel said, with a sad kind of smile.
"Didn't anybody ever tell you that?" 

"Nobody ever had to tell me that, big brother," I said. "I just
watched how it treated you and I got the message -- especially when
Pop was around."

"Oh, come on," Daniel said, like he was really annoyed. "I never had
it any worse than the rest of you did."

"You just keep telling yourself that," I said. "I know better. I was
there, remember?"

"I remember a lot," Daniel said, softly. "Most of it's best left in
the past."

I started to answer him -- some kind of crap about how it's never
really in the past -- but Maxwell chose that moment to stick his
stupid head into the wardroom.

"Commander Reilly, sir," Maxwell said, coming to attention.

"At ease, seaman," Daniel said, nodding.

I, meanwhile, was sitting there with my mouth hanging open. I don't
think I'd seen Maxwell stand at attention since we sailed. I mean,
what he was doing is proper protocol, but it's not traditional on a
submarine. Things are a little different down here.

Maxwell, however, ignored me -- as he should have, since he was
addressing Daniel, who's way, way senior to me.

"Sir," Maxwell said. "The captain sends his compliments and asks that
I inform you that the George Washington's sending your ride over; ETA
is five minutes."

"Thank you, seaman," Daniel said. "Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir," Maxwell said, returning to attention. Then he did an
about face and left.

"Jesus H. Christ," I said, shaking my head. "I'm turning into chopped
liver here."

"What are you talking about?" Daniel said, looking puzzled.

"I mean Seaman Maxwell is busting his butt trying to impress you,
that's what," I said, getting up from my chair. "Not that I don't
approve. I do. I just wish he cared that much about what I think.
Hell, he doesn't even laugh at my jokes."

Daniel smiled and shook his head. 

"He cares what you think, Jim," he said, as he stood and picked up his
papers. "I'm not the one he's trying to impress."

"You think he's trying to impress me?" I said, dubiously. "Forgive me,
Daniel, but you don't know Seaman Maxwell."

"And you don't know yourself very well," Daniel said. "If he's trying
to impress me, it's only because he wants me to approve of the
comportment and discipline of the men under your command -- and that,
little brother, is because he wants me to be proud of you and what
you've accomplished. That tells me that he cares a great deal about
what you think of him."

Okay, I knew I was blushing; I just wasn't sure if it was because I
was ashamed or embarrassed. I had plenty of reason for both, I know
that.

"I'll try harder to earn your approval in the future, sir," I said,
fixing my eyes on the deck. 

"You already have it," Daniel said, quietly, and he put his hand on my
shoulder. "Let it go, Jim. I know what a strain you're under. You've
been running your ass ragged for weeks, your supervisor died
unexpectedly this morning and I just told you that Dana may die, too.
It's not easy to keep your cool under those circumstances, to say the
very least."

"I have to, though," I said, shaking my head. "I have to learn. One
day ..."

"Maybe," Daniel said, giving my shoulder a little squeeze, "and maybe
not. There's one thing I do know: Your tendency to speak without
thinking first may get you in trouble sometimes, but it's also what
makes people trust you, because they know you mean what you say --
unless you try to cover it up with a joke, of course. I think your
Seaman Maxwell sees that; I know I do. And I think Dana sees it, too."

I tried to think of a reply for that, but there just wasn't one.
Finally, in frustration, I shook my head. "Damn it, Daniel," I said,
"I came in here because I wanted to make _you_ feel better."

Daniel laughed and patted my shoulder one more time before letting his
hand drop to his side. "You have," he said. "Believe me. You always
do."

"I can't see how," I said. "You always wind up having to take care of
me, just like you did when we were kids."

"Well, maybe that's what makes me feel better," Daniel said, gently. 

I was about to answer him when the wardroom door opened and Lt.
Commander Hughes, the XO, came in. 

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, with a polite nod. "The helo
is two minutes out and Mr. Reilly's needed in engineering."

"Thank you, commander," Daniel said. "I'm sorry for keeping him so
long."

"Not a problem, sir," Mr. Hughes said. "The skipper had planned to
give you even more time, but the Washington's apparently about to
begin major flight ops; you're needed aboard, and we've got to dive."

"That doesn't sound good, sir," I said. 

"Quite the contrary, lieutenant," Mr. Hughes said, with a twinkle in
his eye. "Could be a lot of fun. Get to do some of that warrior shit
you trained for in New London. "

"It'll be fun for you submariners, maybe," Daniel said, a little
sourly. "I doubt very much that it'll be fun for medical."

"No, of course not, sir," Mr. Hughes said, immediately serious. "I
didn't mean to make light of it."

"I'm not offended, XO," Daniel said, shaking his head. "Just a little
tired." He turned back to me. "I guess I'd better go."

"Yes, sir," I said. I wanted to say more, but I could feel a lump
forming in my throat, and it didn't seem like a real good idea to
start bawling in front of the XO. I also wanted to give my brother a
hug, but that would have constituted a public display of affection. If
the XO had waited just a few more seconds ...

I could tell by looking at Daniel that he knew what I was thinking,
too. I think he always does. He couldn't hug me, but he gave me a firm
handshake, and held onto my hand just a little longer than you
normally would.

"I'll send word if I hear any news about Dana," he said. "But go ahead
and write to her, okay? Tell her that you know. It might make it
easier for her."

"I'll do that, sir," I said. 

"You could also pick up a pen and write to me once in a while,
lieutenant," Daniel said, with mock sternness. "It wouldn't kill you.
In fact, if you check the mailbag, you may find a letter from me
today."

"Yes, sir," I said, with a sheepish grin. Then, proving that I hadn't
learned one damn thing about self-control, I blurted out, "Jesus,
Daniel, I wish I knew when I was going to see you again." 

Mr. Hughes looked a little surprised, and I was bracing myself for
another reprimand, but I didn't get one. Daniel just gave me that "I
love you" smile of his. 

"So do I, Jim," he said, and it was my brother's voice again. "God
willing, it won't be long. Until then ... well ... take care of
yourself."

"You, too, sir," I said. I had to stop. I knew there was more he
wanted to say, and it was killing me not to be able to hear it. If I
didn't shut up, I was going to start sounding weepy, and that just
wasn't going to cut it.

Daniel clapped me on the arm, quickly. "Commander," he said, with a
nod at Mr. Hughes, then turned and stepped into the passageway, where
Maxwell was waiting to escort him topside.

Mr. Hughes watched him walk away.

"Your brother's a fine officer, Mr. Reilly," he said. "You must be
very proud of him."

"I am, sir," I said. "Much, much more than I could ever tell you." I
cleared my throat. "Is there anything in particular that needs my
attention in engineering, sir?"


END "The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(7/?) by Susan Jameson
(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)