Deep Waters

Cmdr. Alexander MacCallen leaned into the salt laden breeze. His dark chocolate eyes narrowing to almost black as he scanned the early fall sea. He took little notice of the sun's sparkling reflection on the churning grey water as it lifted above the Atlantic coast. Having lived near and worked on the sea all his life he took its awesome depth and beauty as fact. Alexander knew the sea as a constant like the sun rising each morning. He also knew that the sea's great beauty could mean death.
For the fourth time that morning Alexander's right hand reached unconsciously to knead the muscles of his chest and ease the ache within. He tried to ignore the warning, as he always did, choosing this time to blame it on his favourite spicy lasagna he had quickly consumed late last night. Alexander knew he should cut back and try to eat more sensibly but he never gained any weight so what was the harm. The doctor didn't know what he was talking about. All those warnings about high cholesterol and blood pressure.
Besides, frowned Alexander, eating was the one normality he always looked forward to and enjoyed. Unfortunately there had been little normalcy in their lives this past week and a half. The last few days even his legendary appetite had dwindled. A coffee and a half eaten sandwich, before covering the next crisis, seemed to be all he had time for.
Three weeks of exceptionally bad weather and bad judgement by far too many weekend sailors, had kept the crew of the 52' Canadian Coast Guard, Arun class vessel, CCGS Portland, on their toes and at the ready.
Though the Portland’s main purpose was search and rescue, the cutter was often used, to avert any disputes or confrontations along the coastal waters. Their job, more like that of a teacher on duty in the playground. They were mostly as a show of authority and a front line arbitrator for minor squabbles.
Alexander would give anything to go back to that relative calm. His gaze melted in sorrow as he scanned the dozens of boats and ships cris-crossing the waters before him.
Nine days ago the Portland, had been called out from it's home port of Sambro. They were the first to receive the call informing the area of a major plane crash, approximately 5 miles South-east off Peggy's cove.
Alexander's fingers dug deeper into the muscles of his chest as he tried to put the horror his ship had encountered out of his mind. The images of that night and the next few days would haunt and mingle within the subconscious fears of all those who had encountered it for years to come.
At first it had been the Portland's job to search for and rescue any survivors. But it was soon apparent, on arrival at the main debris field's hot spot, that their search would be futile. The destruction of the huge airship was total and devastatingly complete. All two hundred and thirty-seven passengers and crew had been lost. All that was left now was the search for the remains and the answers to what went so terribly wrong.
Because Alexander was the highest ranking officer in the area and he and his crew were extensively trained in rescue coordination, he had immediately taken over organizing and supervising the Auxiliary Coastguard units, the local fishing boats who were trained to assist, in recovery operations.
For the past eight days and nights now he had hardly left the bridge. Though he had handed over the rescue coordination to the HMCS Kingston when it arrived, the speed and agility of the cutter was in constant demand to police the area, as well as assist the larger ships. His four man crew had been working shifts and a half, and returning to port for only 6 hours at a time, grabbing a couple hours of much needed downtime and quickly returning to sea.
Viewing the area now after only four hours fitful sleep, Alexander's weary head raised a notch. The pride he felt in his crew for their tireless performance during these last days had factored in his own reasoning for denying himself sleep. He knew the men and women, everyone a willing volunteer for the work of gathering the shattered remnants of lives lost, no matter how strong they were, needed his steadying strength in the moments when the grisly work inevitably overwhelmed them. He would not let them down. There would be plenty of time to rest when he got back to port.
Alexander scowled. Of course he would also have to deal with Katie nagging him to take better care of himself. Not that his pretty young wife would actually nag. She would just look at him with those incredible green eyes that saw straight through to his soul. His own guilt would then turn his heart inside out at all he had failed to do.
"Katie." he sighed to the wind. She was so beautiful and so damned understanding. Sometimes he wished she was an augmentative spiteful woman just so he would have a justifiable reason to remain at sea. But she never harped at him, only kissed him sweetly good-bye and begged him to come home safe and sound.
'Maybe she was just as glad to see the back of him each time he left.' His conscience insisted. She had every right he acknowledged ruefully. She knew how guilty he felt for spending so much time at sea away from her and their two girls. How guilty he felt for never being there when she needed him. Even how guilty he felt about not being able to deal with their son David's death.
His mind as always, slammed down on the loss and hurt, pushing back and shutting the memories away.
"God forgive me for what I've put them through." He closed his eyes and took a tentative deep breath to test if the ache was gone.
The stress and exhaustion of the past weeks had caught up to his 52 year old over worked body. Alexander's broad muscular shoulders rounded to flex out the now mild pain, his 6 foot 1, 200 lb frame momentarily losing it's proud stance.
"Oh Katie I miss you. I can't run from this anymore. I gota' go home." His handsome features tightened and suddenly paled. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips as what felt like a knife struck him hard in the chest. The pain burned under his grasping palm, then flashed across his left breast, shooting up to his shoulders and down his left arm. He tried to reach for the ship's rail to steady himself but his hands wouldn't obey him.
No! This couldn't be happening now! Not now! Not before he could tell Katie how wrong he had been. Not before he could tell her nothing mattered more to him than her and the girls.
The glitter of the sun on the water seemed to fill his head, the sparkles gathering and blocking out the drama he had been overseeing. He tried to force his lungs to breath past the pain. But as the sparkling lights surrounded him, he realized - there was no more pain... no more guilt... no more sorrow. A peace seemed to flow over and through him as his lungs released their last breath. With the peace, came the knowledge... Katie and the girls would be all right.
Someone was running toward him through the sparkling light. Someone with blond curly hair and giggling blue eyes, their little boy arms flung wide open.
"David... ." Alexander smiled, feeling the waves of love draw him home.