Chapter Text
The sun was a rare guest that morning, pushing through the usual curtain of gray and casting a warm glare across the Astral’s weather-worn deck. Robert sat sprawled in an old, half-broken folding chair, shirtless, limbs draped lazily over the sides. The heat pressed gently against the scars carved into his chest and arms- marks he’d long stopped giving a damn about.
A folded newspaper covered his face, shielding his eyes from the brightness. Above him, gulls circled and shrieked. Some of them probably shitting on the deck. He’d deal with it later.
Damn birds.
He breathed in, and the familiar stench of old fish, stale salt, and wet wood filled his lungs. It was a smell he’d grown used to back when his father dragged him onto this very boat every weekend under the excuse of teaching him “life skills.” What the old man really meant was free labor, and Robert had known that even as a kid.
He slouched deeper into the chair, trying to let the soft thump of waves against the hull drown out the memories.
Instead, a thin voice cut through the morning air.
“Uh… Mr. Robertson?”
Robert sat up with a slow exhale, letting the newspaper slide off his face and onto his lap. He squinted toward the docks.
A boy stood there- tall, lanky, all elbows and nerves. Pale, sunken eyes darting around like they expected danger at every turn. His hands wrung themselves in front of him, and every small sound made him twitch. He looked like one harsh breeze might send him toppling into the water.
“Which one?” Robert called back, voice flat and dry as driftwood.
“W-what?” The boy’s brows shot up in confusion.
With a low groan, Robert pushed himself up from the chair. His joints cracked like old floorboards as he stretched. He walked toward the edge of the deck, stopping just above the kid.
“Which Robertson?” he clarified, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. “The first’s been dead for decades. The second- my father, passed about four months ago.” He braced an elbow on the railing. “If this is about whatever debts he left behind, you can tell whoever sent you I’m dealing with it.”
The boy waved his hands frantically. “No- no! I’m not- I’m not here for money…Well, I am b-but, I’m here for you. Robert Robertson, the… the third.” He swallowed hard. “I- I saw your ad in the paper for a deckhand. I… I want the job.”
“Oh.” Robert straightened and gave him a once-over, slow and skeptical. “Have you ever even stepped foot on a boat before?”
“Yes- yes, sir!” The boy’s face brightened suddenly, fear mixing with hope. “Been on the sea since I was ten. M-my grandma taught me everything. Please- I need the work. She’s sick, and I really, really need-”
“Congratulations. You’re hired.” Robert cut him off.
The boy froze solid, like someone had turned him to ice. “I… I got the job? Really?”
“Well, you’re the only one who answered,” Robert said with a tired shrug. “Just try not to get yourself killed. That’s all I ask.”
The boy nodded with so much force that Robert half expected his head to fall off. “Y-yes, sir! I- I won’t disappoint you! I’m H-Herman- ”
Herman thrust his hand out toward Robert’s chest like he meant to stab him with a handshake. Robert stared at the offered palm for a beat before lifting his own hand and gripping it.
His expression didn’t change, but one thought crossed his mind:
Kid’s got sweaty hands.
“Mm-hmm,” Robert said. “Nice to meet you, Herman.”
Robert released Herman’s hand and instinctively wiped his palm across his bare chest. “Alright,” he said, voice low and practical, “I’ve got a few things to take care of before we shove off. You go grab your things and meet me here tomorrow.”
“O-oh! I already have my bags!” Herman blurted, his whole face brightening. He lifted two worn brown suitcases like trophies, nearly wobbling under their weight.
Robert blinked. “…Right. That’s- efficient.” He scratched the side of his jaw, trying to piece together whether this kid was overprepared or just terrified someone else might steal the job if he blinked too long. “Fine. Then we’re leaving this evening.”
He glanced around the deck for his shirt, spotting the faded fabric crumpled near the chair. He tugged it on over his shoulders, the cloth sticking slightly to sun-warmed skin, and swung himself off the boat with practiced ease.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he called over his shoulder. “You start by cleaning the deck. It's covered in gull crap.”
He started down the dock, hands slipping into his pockets. Behind him, Herman scrambled to set his suitcases down without dropping them.
“You got i-it, boss!” Herman shouted after him, voice cracking with enthusiasm.
Robert didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to. He could practically feel the kid’s nervous excitement vibrating through the air like a plucked wire.
Three fast, heavy knocks rattled the door- sharp enough to echo through the frame.
The tiny house Robert stood before clung to the cliffside like it had been nailed there in a hurry and forgotten. It sat well away from the rest of the town, tucked behind leaning pines and a curtain of sea mist. Most homes huddled together along the safer, flatter roads, but this one stood alone, perched above the rocks with its back against the wind.
Robert shoved his hands into his pockets and waited, jaw tight. He didn’t like waiting. And he especially didn’t like standing in the rain that had started on his walk here.
The house wasn’t much to look at, small, crooked, with a roof that listed to one side and walls that had long lost their paint. A single lantern flickered beside the door, the flame jittering whenever the wind cut across the cliff. Its weak glow made the place look even more skeletal.
He knocked again- three heavy thuds, each more impatient than the last.
“Come on,” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t have all day.”
A gull screeched somewhere overhead, and Robert resisted the urge to throw a rock at it. He shifted his weight, glancing back toward the narrow path he’d taken from the docks. The town sat far behind him.
Just as Robert lifted his hand to knock agian, the door jerked open with surprising force.
A small, black, older man stood framed in the doorway, white locs pulled back. He looked Robert up and down once- slow, unimpressed, and entirely unbothered by the cold wind whipping around them.
“Knockin’ on my damn door like you’re tryin’ to break it,” the man grumbled. “Hurry up and get your wet ass in here, son.”
He stepped aside without waiting for a response, already turning his back like he expected Robert to follow… and like he’d scold him again if he didn’t.
“Nice to see you too, Chase,” Robert muttered as he stepped inside. He trailed after the older man and closed the door behind him, feeling the familiar weight of the house settle around them.
The place smelled the same- motor oil, sea salt, and whatever cheap air freshener Chase had been pretending masked it. Chase himself looked rougher than Robert remembered: more gray in the hair, more lines around the eyes, the lean, wiry build of a man the ocean had chewed on for years. Younger than he looked, but the sea didn’t care about birth certificates.
Chase tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up. Taller. Meaner. Still ugly, but what can you do?”
Robert snorted despite himself. “You look worse.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Chase said instantly, hands up as if surrendering. “Your dad died, and I aged ten fucking years in a week. The bastard didn’t even leave a manual. ‘Here, Chase, have my kid and my emotional baggage, hope you can juggle.’”
Robert blinked. Chase grinned wider, the shameless kind that said Relax, kid. If I couldn’t joke about it, I’d be crying.
“Jesus, Chase…”
“What?” Chase shrugged, absolutely unbothered. “He’d laugh. Or haunt me. Hard to tell with him.”
The heavy mood that had been pressing on the room cracked like thin ice. Robert let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Chase nudged him with an elbow as he walked past. “Come on. I didn’t clean anything, but I’ll lie and say I did.”
Robert followed, the tension in his chest easing just a notch. Chase always did this-dragged the air back into his lungs whether he wanted it or not.
“What?” Chase added, glancing at him with a lazy grin. “Thought I was gonna get all sentimental? Not a chance. Last time I tried, your dad threatened to throw me off the dock.”
“Yeah,” Robert said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “He would’ve.”
“Damn right he would’ve. And I’d have deserved it.”
Chase clapped him on the back, almost too hard. “Now. You want coffee, food, or do you want me to start roasting you until you cry? I can multitask.”
Robert lingered near the doorway, tracing the chipped edge with his thumb as Chase made coffee. He waited for the man to sit down before speaking.
“I’m heading out again,” he said. “Tonight, actually. Taking the Astral.”
Chase froze mid-sip of his coffee- if you could call that black sludge coffee- and lowered the mug with a slow, deliberate thunk. His eyes narrowed, the warmth in them cooling by degrees.
“Oh, hell no,” he said flatly. “Not this shit again.”
“It’s not- ”
“Don’t.” Chase pointed at him with two fingers, the same gesture he used to scold him as a kid. “Don’t give me that ‘it’s not what you think’ tone. I’ve been hearing that since your ass was ten and hiding dead crabs in your pockets.”
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. “Chase…”
“What?” Chase barked. “Your dad dies out there, you don't visit me for weeks, and when you do, you say, ‘Hey, I'm gonna go recreate the family tradition of drowning!’”
“It’s not about that.”
Chase snorted. “It’s always about that. Water’s in your blood, son. I get it. I do. But that doesn’t mean you gotta go reenact the same damn tragedy.”
Robert leaned his weight on the doorway. “I’m not my dad.”
“No, you’re smarter. Usually.” Chase jabbed another finger towards him. “Which is why you better tell me you aren’t doing this alone.”
Robert hesitated. That was enough of an answer.
“Goddammit,” Chase muttered, running a hand through his white locs until they stood up slightly. “Of course you are.”
“I hired a kid. Herman. Green as hell, but he’s willing to learn.”
“Herman?” Chase repeated, eyes widening. “I know him. The boy looks like a wet broomstick. That’s not help, that’s cargo.”
Robert let out a short laugh. “He’ll be fine.”
“He'd better be. And you better be. Because if you end up following your old man into the drink, I swear to God I’m gonna fucking resurrect you just to yell at you.”
Robert swallowed, the words hitting somewhere deep. “I’ll be careful, Chase.”
Chase stopped glaring. When he spoke again, his voice was rough, but quieter. “I know you think you've got something to prove. To him. To yourself. Hell, maybe to the damn ocean.” He shook his head. “But none of that’s worth dying over. Not twice in the same family.”
Robert stared at the worn floor. “I’m not trying to repeat history.”
Chase sighed long and loud, like the fight drained out of him all at once. He locked eyes with Robert.
“You listen to me,” he said, softer now. “You go out there? Fine. You’re a grown man. Strong-headed idiot, but grown. But you don’t go out there thinking you owe the water anything. It’ll take you if you let it.”
Robert held his gaze.
“And you call me,” Chase added, squeezing the back of his neck. “You get in trouble, you call. You hear me? I don’t care if you’re two miles out or halfway to hell.”
A small, reluctant smile crossed Robert’s face. “Yeah. I hear you.”
“Good. I don’t want to bury another Robertson before my time. Now sit down before I get all emotional and start crying. I’m too pretty for that.”
For the first time in days, Robert let himself relax. Maybe a little. The world outside was still dark, but for a moment, inside, it felt like home as he talked to Chase. As their time ended, Chase walked Robert to the door.
Robert hesitated for a moment, then wrapped his arms around Chase. Robert pressed his cheek to Chase’s shoulder, letting the weight of years of grief, frustration, and unspoken worry settle into the embrace. Chase’s rough hands landed on his back, firm and grounding, ruffling Robert’s hair as he muttered something under his breath that sounded like a complaint but carried warmth beneath it.
Finally, Robert pulled back.
Chase chuckled low in his throat and patted Robert on the back. “Hmph. Not too long, you hear? Don’t make me soft, boy.”
“Not too long,” Robert repeated, straightening, his fingers lingering briefly on Chase’s shoulders. “Thanks- for looking out for me… all these years.”
Chase waved him off, though his eyes softened. “Don’t start, Just… come back in one piece, yeah?”
Chase chuckled low in his throat, then stepped aside and rummaged near the door. He pulled out a worn, oil-stained coat and a heavy, black umbrella. “Here,” he said, holding them out. “Your old man’s coat. Keep you warm and dry. You’re about to get soaked if that rain picks up."
Robert blinked, surprised. The coat smelled faintly of his father- sea, sweat, and old tobacco- but it was familiar and grounding. He took it, the weight settling across his shoulders. The umbrella was sturdy, the kind that had seen storms long before either of them were born.
Robert nodded once, sharp and deliberate, before turning toward the door. With one last glance at Chase, he walked out, shoulders squared, coat wrapped around him, umbrella in hand.
Robert climbed back onto the Astral, expecting the usual chaos: ropes tangled, nets wet and slimy, and the lingering smell of old fish thick in the damp air.
He froze.
The deck gleamed, slick with rain but spotless. Ropes were coiled neatly, lanterns hung straight, and not a scrap of trash marred the wood. Even the usual briny stench was muted, replaced by the clean, sharp smell of rain on wood and salt.
Herman stood near the railing, hunched against the rain, hands clasped nervously in front of him, eyes wide. “I- I thought it would help if everything was ready, sir,” he said, voice high and quivering. “I cleaned up… everything.”
Robert blinked, water running down his coat from the rain, and let out a low, dry laugh. “Well… damn. Didn’t expect that. You really went all out, huh?” He stepped onto the deck, careful not to slip, inspecting the spotless wood. “On your first day, too. Bold. Or stupid.”
Herman swallowed and nodded frantically. “I… I wanted to make a good impression. I- I’ll do whatever you need me to, sir.”
Robert grunted. “Alright, initiative points for you. But don’t think clean decks save you when the sea decides to test you.” He glanced at the dark, rolling waves beyond the hull, rain streaking down his face. “We leave tonight. You ready to get wet for real?”
Herman straightened, determination fighting the nervous tremor in his body. “I- I think so, sir. Yes.”
Robert climbed to the helm, gripping the wheel as raindrops streaked his arms. “Good. Stick close, keep your head, and don’t piss me off.”
With a groan and a shudder of old wood, the Astral slipped her moorings, water splashing against the deck, rain mixing with the spray. Herman clung to the railing, eyes wide and soaked through, while Robert felt the familiar pull of the sea, that blend of anticipation and unease he had carried since he was a boy.
And beneath the gray, rain-churned surface, something stirred. Silent. Patient. Watching.
Robert felt it- just a twitch in his gut, a shadow of instinct- but he didn’t look. Not yet. Some things were better learned in time.