For Krabbypatty - Nick/Paris and a boat

Paris says it as a statement of fact: "I thought you knew how to drive that thing."

"Sail," Nick corrects morosely, still staring out at last glimpse of the boat sinking beneath the waves. "Or pilot. And yeah. I can."

"Whatever." Paris sighs and starts splashing around in the shallows, sorting through the dribs and drabs of stuff they managed to toss overboard before jumping ship. "Do you think there's anything to drink?"

Nick looks downwards and sees a half-finished bottle bobbing beside his ankle. "Here," he says, stooping. "We got Jack." He laughs.

*

It's not much of an island - more like a outsized sandbar with palm trees. They could probably walk from one side to another within minutes.

Not that Paris much likes the idea of that. "You go," she says, busily spreading clothes and towels out on the sand to dry. Carefully she places pebbles on the corners of a designer sarong, weighing it down against the breeze. "And can you look for fresh water or something? Salt is really bad for the fabric and I don't want to use up the Evian."

They won't find fresh water on a sandbar but Nick doesn't say that. He just says, "I'll look," and starts trudging away.

"Oh!" Paris calls out. "And Nick!"

He turns back, sighing, expecting another impossible request.

"You have sand on your ass." She smiles and blows him a kiss.

*

It starts getting cold when the sun goes down so they gather up some driftwood and light a fire on the beach. For dinner they have chocolate bars and some bran crackers. The underripe pineapple and bag of cookies they save for later.

They sit. Paris leans against him; Nick puts his arm around her waist. Quietly they pass the bottle of Jack back and forth between them.

"Aren't you scared?" Nick asks suddenly. "I mean," he screws up his face, trying to think how to say it right, "you seem pretty calm about all this."

At first he'd been worried she might get hysterical or cry or something. But apart from one moment, when she started wailing over a ruined pair of strappy sandals that Nick privately thinks look identical to every other pair she owns anyway, Paris hasn't seemed too bothered.

Paris twists, looking upwards. "Well, they're going to find us, aren't they?" She shrugs like it should be obvious. "We told them we'd be back tonight and you said we're not that far from the resort."

"Yeah..."

"Besides," she says, leaning back into the curve of his arm, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, "you're here."

By Ro, February 2004

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