#Jonny Was Actually Quite Concerning Back When I Was First Taken In By The Crew But None Of His Orders For Me To Leave Are Good Enough To

[the-finest-clockwork-soldier]

Who’s the scariest on the ship

That Would Be Nastya! By A Significant Proportion.

Thank Goodness She Mostly Sticks To The Innermost Workings Of The Aurora And Yells At Us If We Ever Attempt To Leave The O'Neill Ring (Except To Go Planetside, Which I'm Fairly Certain She Likes Us Leaving The Best). I Am Quite Thankful For The Aurora In That Regard, Because It Would Be Awfully Dreadful For Nastya To Be Left Without A Good Pretending Toy Just Because She Finds Me Distasteful.

Dr. La Cognizi Is A Close Second.

[schrijverr]

How to care for a sick Jonny d’Ville

Jonny isn’t feeling well after a night of drinking, when Tim finds out he isn’t just hungover but actually sick, he takes care of him and ropes Ashes and Marius into it as well.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Vomiting and mentions of Jonnys self esteem or lack thereof. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag anything!

~~~~~~~~~

Jonny felt woozy. It suddenly hit him when he stood up from the table they had all sat at during the night as slowly more alcohol made its way into their systems while they played cards.

He blinked heavily a few times and tried to steady himself on his feet as the ground continued to sway beneath his feet.

Ashes noticed him struggling and laughed: “Still can’t handle your liquor, can you, Jonny?”

“I can, shut up.” he frowned at them, then started to doubt himself. He wasn’t that drunk, was he? No. He couldn’t be, he had drank much more than this in the past and he had been fine, he knew how to hold his goddamn liquor.

But why was he so dizzy then?

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it almost made him fall over and he grumbled something about needing to lie down as the rest of the table laughed at him while he stumbled away.

When he finally collapsed on his bed, after a walk that took way too long for the length it was, he groaned in relief. He felt terrible. He hoped the hangover would be less shit than this, it had been so long since drinking had gone over wrong that he barely recognized it.

The next day he woke up feeling even more shitty then when he’d gone to bed. He had a terrible headache and when he’d tried to sit up he had nearly vomited all over himself, almost not making it to the toilet before his stomach emptied itself.

Now he was still sitting next to it. He hadn’t found the energy in himself to get up from the floor and the coolness of the toilet bowl was welcome against his forehead.

He had practically decided to just stay there for the entire day and wallow in misery when the door of his room slammed open with a bang making him wince in pain as his headache flared up again.

Tims entirely too cheery voice called out: “You still alive, d’Ville?”

“Go away.” Jonny groaned back, “Too early.”

Poking his head around the entrance of the bathroom Tim grinned as he took in Jonnys state and said: “It’s been over a day, Jonny. How much did you even drink?”

“Not that much.” Jonny said with a frown, before Tim turned on the lights and the sudden brightness made him vomit again.

“You sure, because you look like shit.” Tim laughed, the bastard.

Jonny shot him a glare and told him: “I didn’t even finish my bottle, fucker. I did not drink too much, it just fell wrong or something.”

Then the effort that had taken was too much and he sagged against the toilet once more as he hoped that Tim would kindly fuck off and turn off the lights as he went.

Alas no such fate was in the cards for him, because instead Tim told him to stop being a baby, before he bodily picked him off the floor and slung him over his shoulders in a fireman carry. He also picked up the bin and handed it to Jonny with a: “Don’t ruin my clothes or I will skin you.”

Jonny did not have any fight left in him and felt too weak to do anything other than give Tim a shaky thumbs up, before clutching the bin tightly near his face.

It had been good foresight of Tim to hand him said bin, because by the time they got to the main area Jonny was dry heaving in it, spit dripping from his lips since there wasn’t anything else in his stomach to be vomited up as reflective tears ruined his already smudged make up.

Tim by this point had gotten quite concerned.

He had thought Jonny was being dramatic, but right now he wasn’t so sure. It was unusual for him to react to a small amount of alcohol like this and Tim did vaguely remember Jonny drinking not that much.

Putting the First Mate gently down on the couch Tim knelt down in front of him and looked into his eyes. They were hazy and blank and didn’t seem to notice Tims expression grow even more concerned.

“Hey, Jonny, hey, look at me.” he waited until there was small sound of recognition, “You really are feeling shit, eh, no dramatics?”

Slowly Jonny shook his head, then he grinned slightly and said: “I’m never dramatic.”

A bit of relief washed over Tim, but he didn’t let is show as he rolled his eyes: “Not feeling bad enough to stop being a lying little shit, I see.”

Then he was suddenly confronted with the fact that he had no clue what to do now. His plan had been to throw some water in Jonnys face before giving him something for a hangover, but that plan was kind of fucked over by the fact that Jonny wasn’t hungover.

He awkwardly asked Jonny: “Uhm, is there anything I can, you know, do for you? Maybe get you back to bed or something?”

Jonny curled into himself, clutching the bin tightly to his chest and murmured: “Don’t wanna move. Cold?”

“Should I get you a blanket?” Tim asked, completely unsure of how to proceed.

Sliding onto his side Jonny nodded and shut his eyes again.

That was Tims cue to bolt, which he did. He knew he had an extra blanket in his room, he’d kept there just in case, back when he was still suspicious of Auroras ability to keep the ship running to everyone's preferences.

It seemed so dumb looking back on it, although he was glad he had the blanket now, he thought as he pulled the fluff bunch from a chest.

He hoped he would get back before Jonny was found by another crew member who didn’t know what was going on with him, since he already felt guilty enough for practically kidnapping him from his room, even if he had found him miserable on the ground next to the toilet with no intention of moving.

Returning to the couch he’d left Jonny on he was glad to see Jonny peacefully asleep on his own, the bin next to him on the ground.

Tim gently tucked Jonny in and grabbed some guns to clean, before carefully sliding Jonnys head in his lap and silently setting to his task while he kept an eye on Jonny.

After about two hours of silence it was broken by two sets of footsteps and the sound of Marius and Ashes arguing about something.

At the sound Jonny stirred slightly under Tims hands, which he had on his head since he was playing with his hair, something he had started doing after he was done with cleaning his guns.

Tim tried to soothe him and keep him asleep, so right as Marius and Ashes entered he gave them a glare and shushed them.

They seemed taken aback by it, but stayed silent as they shot Tim a questioning look. He pointed to Jonny and softly said: “He’s sick.”

Ashes raised a brow and told him: “He’s probably being melodramatic, you saw him stumble after drinking. I told him he couldn't handle his liquor.”

“I thought so too, but he barely drank anything for his standards.” Tim replied.

“He is right, Ashes. Jonny was pretty moderate.” Marius commented.

“I still don’t believe it.” Ashes crossed their arms, before kneeling next to Jonny and saying: “Hey, Jonny, come on.”

Tim was too late in his attempt to stop them and soon Jonny blinked open his eyes slowly and croaked: “Ashes? What? You?”

They hummed: “Oh, he really seems out of it.” then they a bit louder they said: “Jonny, are you good? What’s happening?”

“He’s sick, Ashes.” Tim shot them a glare.

“Yeah and if we know what he has maybe we can fix him.” Ashes glared back, they pointed at Marius, “We got our Doctor here, he should be able to help.”

“We both know Marius isn’t a real Doctor.”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, Marius.”

“No need to be rude, Ashes.”

“Just look at Jonny, von Raum.”

Marius softly repeated Ashes words in a mocking manner, but also squatted down next to them to take a look at Jonny. He smiled at the First Mate and gently said: “Hey there, buddy. Tim said you feel a bit unwell, can you tell me what you feel?”

Jonny squinted at the light and the noise, before burrowing his face into Tims lap and mumbling: “Pain, bad.”

Ashes and Marius shared a look, then turned to Tim, who gave them an ‘I-told-you-so’ face, after which he turned back to Jonny and continued to pet his head again.

Marius nodded, more to himself, then attempted conversation with Jonny once more: “I get that you’re feeling awful, Jonny. I can see you’re sick, but I need specifics so we can maybe lessen the pain and the bad feeling.”

Turning his head back to Marius as he peaked at the Doctor over Tims knee, Marius had to stop himself from fawning over the cute picture Jonny made. Then he said hoarsely: “Stomach feels weird and head hurts, lights bright.”

“Good, good, well done, thank you, Jonny.” Marius smiled at him.

Jonny nodded, closing his eyes and turning back into Tims lap seemingly satisfied with his contribution.

“He also vomited a lot.” Tim told him.

“So what’s the verdict, Doctor?” Ashes asked him.

Under two pairs of scrutinizing eyes, Marius carefully said: “I think it’s a stomach bug native to the planet we were just on. It’s probably not going to spread from him, which is good news!”

“Oh no, what is the bad news.” Tim asked, a warning tone in his voice.

“Nothing bad, nothing bad.” Marius quickly assured him, “Just that we cannot do anything other than keep him hydrated and warm until this blows over.”

After a beat Tim said: “Then we should probably get him some water, since I don’t he’s been drinking anything since he was with us.”

“No wonder he has a headache then.” Ashes exclaimed.

“It’s not my fault, I just picked him up from the floor and put him somewhere soft.” Tim replied indignantly.

Marius got up with an eyeroll and as he walked away to get some water for Jonny, he called over his shoulder: “Arguing isn’t going to make him feel better.”

He did not see Ashes and Tim flipping him off in sync, having found a common enemy in Marius and the fact that he was right, which was annoying.

While he was gone, Ashes looked at Jonny and also petted his side for a moment, then they asked Tim: “Are you okay? How long have you been sitting here with him?”

“A few hours now. Two, maybe three.” Tim shrugged, “He’s been asleep the whole time, just woke up to vomit a few times. It’s been alright, cleaned my guns. Although my leg has fallen asleep.”

“Wanna switch?” Ashes asked.

“What?”

“Switch.” they repeated, “I take him for a moment, you can stretch your legs.”

Tim gave them a look and teased: “I thought you said he was just being dramatic. Does your little black heart still has a bit of caring left in it.”

Ashes glared at him and threatened: “You’re stuck there, Tim. I wouldn't try anything when you can’t run from me.”

“Alright, alright.” Tim raised his hands disarmingly, “But I honestly wouldn't mind the switch.”

Right at that point Marius returned with the water and announced: “I think someone is going to have to hold him up while he drinks and I also think he isn’t going to be pleased by that fact, so lets be nice.”

Tim nodded and softly woke Jonny up again. The First Mate in his lap whined slightly when he got woken up and pouted as he blinked his eyes open slowly.

“I know, Jonny, we’re all meanies for waking you up.” Marius smiled at him, “But I have some water for you, it’ll help with the headache and probably the jucky taste and the dry throat. You can go to bed again right after, I promise.”

Jonny smacked a bit when Marius mentioned the taste and dry throat and grimaced, making the three other chuckle. He squinted at them suspiciously and hoarsely pouted: “Are you laughing at me?”

Tim ran a hand through his hair and smirked: “Of course not, Jonny.”

It seemed like Jonny didn’t really believe him, but he did allow Tim to lever him up into a sitting position, leaning heavily against Tims side.

He wanted to take the glass from Marius hands, but he shook his head and kindly told him: “I would let you. I know you don’t like it, but I think you would like it even less when you drop all the water on yourself.”

“Who says I’m gonna do that.” Jonny croaked.

Marius raised an eyebrow at him and shared a disbelieving look with Ashes and Tim. Tim quickly glanced at Jonny then rolled his eyes, while Ashes just shrugged in a way that asked ‘are-you-really-surprised?’

“I’m not saying you’re going to do that.” Marius sighed, “Just for me, okay.”

Jonny hesitated for a moment, but in the end he was tired and feeling bad and he honestly didn’t really feel like arguing, especially not while they all were being so nice to him and taking care of him.

So he didn’t protest when Marius raised the glass to his lips and helped him drink as he softly said: “Take small sips. That’s it.”

After the glass was empty Tim and Ashes swapped places. When Tim first started to get up Jonny made a small, confused noise, which he would later fiercely deny ever happened, as he gave Tim a hurt look.

Tim had to bite his lip to stop himself from either squealing or laughing at Jonny, before he explained: “My legs are a bit dead, so Ashes is going to stay with you for a while so that I can stretch, okay?”

A look of relief swept over Jonnys face that he quickly hid as he huffed: “Whatever, not like I care.”

All three suppressed an eyeroll at the obvious lie, but no one commented.

Ashes lowered Jonnys head until he was comfortably resting in their lap. He yawned then yawned again although he tried to power through it: “What are- what’re y’all gonna do?”

“Just mill around here, don’t worry about it, Jonny.” Marius quickly said, shooting a look at Ashes and Tim that Jonny couldn't see since his eyes were already closed.

“Goo’, goo’, ‘cause, you know, I was just gonna” a small yawn, “stay here too and-” and Jonny was asleep again.

Both Ashes and Tim couldn't stop the small snort at that and even Marius had to admit that that was pretty cute and funny.

“I am so teasing him with this when he’s feeling better.” Ashes grinned.

“God, yes.” Tim agreed.

Marius hesitated for a moment, then defectively said: “First lets make sure he does feel better, alright. I am filling up another glass of water for when he wakes up and I’m making him broth, he needs a bit of food in his system.”

Then he hurried off to the kitchen.

Tim stretched and told Ashes: “Are you going to be okay on your own for a while? Because I need to walk around a bit right now and I feel like Jonny needs better clothes than his stinky drinking clothes. It’s alright now, but when you’ve been sitting with him for a while, you’ll notice.”

Ashes made a disgusted face at that, before they shooed him out, telling him that if it really got that bad he’d better do something about it before it became their problem.

Giving them a lazy salute and a semi-scared grin Tim wiggled his legs a bit, before walking off to do what he had just said.

Meanwhile Ashes had taken up petting Jonnys hair with one hand while they flicked a lighter off and on with the other.

It seemed Jonny was out of it for now, apparently it had taken a lot out of him to sit up and drink, something that would have worried them more were it not for the fact that he was literally immortal and it would only be mildly uncomfortable if he died from this.

They saw Marius for a short second as he gave them the glass for when Jonny woke up again and checked up on them. Once he was satisfied with the answer he left them alone again with their thoughts.

Jonny hadn’t been sick in a long while and it was strange to see him so cuddly and, not weak, but softer. He always took great care in maintaining a tough exterior that they sometimes almost forgot the boy he’d once been when they’d first met.

As they pondered this for a while, Jonny groaned and suddenly turned away from them as he hunched over the couch to vomit in the bin that was there.

He startled Ashes a bit, but they hurried to make sure he didn’t fall off the couch and, when it seemed his stomach had expelled all the water in it, they pulled him back onto the couch properly where he immediately whimpered slightly as he curled up against their chest.

Ashes could feel that he was quivering slightly and in a brief moment of tenderness they allowed themself to hold him close to their side and stroke his back as they whispered: “That seemed uncomfortable. Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Throat hurts.” Jonny whined.

Silently they thanked Marius foresight as they got the glass and held it up to Jonnys lips as they gently said: “Here, drink this, it might help.”

Jonny frowned at the glass and tightened his lips as he refused to drink the water. Ashes frowned in turn at Jonny and asked: “Why don’t you want to drink the water?”

“I don’t wanna throw up again.” he whispered.

“Why don’t you take a small sip to rinse your mouth and you spit that out and then after that you take three sips, just three, you don’t have to drink the whole glass.” Ashes reasoned.

Jonny nodded and Ashes helped him do just that, before letting him sag against them again so that he could fall back into a fitful sleep.

It was at this point that Tim came back carrying a stack of clothes, makeup wipes, sandwiches and some things they could do while sitting down, like playing cards and some books.

He plonked it all down on the table and softly announced: “Jonny, we’re getting you in better clothes, buddy.”

The pile on the couch named Jonny just squinted at him and didn’t cooperate.

Ashes rolled their eyes and stated: “This is weird and I hate you for this.” as they started unbuckling his belts.

When those were off Jonny seemed willing to exchange his waistcoat and shirt for a soft sweater and his trousers for comfy joggers, although he did grumble and whine during the whole process and wiggled grouchily under his blanket when they were done.

Then, as Jonny continued to rest, Tim and Ashes started playing a game of cards, no high stakes or anything, just for fun, and ate some lunch.

They were just finishing their third round when Brian poked his head around the door frame and said: “Hello, are you all alright? Marius said Jonny wasn’t feeling well and you were keeping an eye on him. Is he okay?”

Tim glanced over to Jonnys sleeping form, then said: “He seems alright now, but he was vomiting earlier and he has done nothing but sleep, apparently it wasn’t just a hangover keeping him in his room.”

“That’s terrible.” Brian sounded concerned as he walked over to them on the couch to see Jonny for himself.

Jonny was fast asleep, his mouth a bit agape as he breathed softly. He was curled up under a big blanket and his makeup was smeared over his face staining Ashes trousers as he smushed his face into their leg.

Brian bit his lip lightly to keep himself from chuckling and instead commented: “Well, he seems to be in good hands. Shouldn’t we get rid of the makeup though?”

“I got the stuff.” Tim nodded to small pile at the edge of the table, “But he was already fussy about us forcing him in comfortable clothes that it didn’t seem worth it, it’s not like he’s noticed yet.”

Shrugging Brian made a ‘that’s-fair’ face, before he asked: “Is there anything you need? I can get it for you.” both shook their head, “Well, if you think of something give Aurora the message and she’ll tell me, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Brain.” Tim smiled, while Ashes gave him a lazy thumbs up.

He gave them an awkward wave before leaving. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his crew mates and checking up on Jonny after he’d heard the First Mate was sick was only logical, but he didn’t really like people touching him and with how he’d found Jonny, he didn’t mind not being the person to keep an eye on him.

By the time Marius showed up with the broth Tim and Ashes had switched places again and had turned to playing Uno.

Marius raised an eyebrow and the two fierce fighters arguing softly about Uno rules, while Tim tried not to jostle the sleeping Jonny. He cleared his throat and held up the broth: “Willing to help me get this into Jonny?”

Ashes gave the steaming broth a suspicious look: “Is that a smart idea, Marius? I mean just the water alone made him vomit again.”

“Yeah, I know, but he needs some food in him if he wants to recover, your body can’t heal itself without fuel.” Marius explained.

They gave him a slow one over, before they nodded.

While that was going on Tim had awoken Jonny, who blinked heavily as he tried to get away from Tims waking hand with little success. He mumbled: “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Marius has some broth for you. You need to eat, Jonny.” Tim told him.

Jonny frowned and tried to hide under the blanket as he shook his head. Tim sighed: “Don’t be difficult, Jonny.”

That made Jonny peak out from under the blanket as he complained: “I’m not being difficult.”

“If you’re not being difficult then you will let us give you some broth to help you get better.” Tim said a bit harshly.

Jonny flinched away from the tone and stopped complaining. Tim felt a bit bad about it, but he was glad Jonny was allowing him to get him into a semi-sitting position.

Marius sat down next to Jonnys hips on the couch so that he could feed Jonny the broth. However, Jonny had slept through most of the day and felt a bit better now and he was not about to let Marius feed him, that would be embarrassing.

“I can eat fucking soup on my own, von Raum.” he said, crossing his arms.

“Jonny, I love you, but you absolutely can not do that right now, so I am going to feed you and you’re going to be fed, alright.” Marius told him, not willing to argue about this.

Let it be known that Jonny does not give in easily, he would fight and argue in any other circumstance, but his brain just cut out when Marius told him he loved him and he just gave in, a happy feeling bubbling up in his chest after Marius smiled: “Good job, buddy.”

Later he could be mad at himself for being so pliant and so happy about being cared for and praised, but right now he was sick and he could allow himself a few comforts.

Marius was pleased to see Jonny cooperate, obediently opening and closing his mouth around each spoon. It was only after about half the bowl was empty that Jonnys eyes flickered between Marius’s face and the spoon, before he refused, keeping his mouth shut.

“Are you full?” Marius asked kindly.

Unsure Jonny nodded, as if he wasn’t certain Marius would let him stop or get mad at him for wanting to stop. It made Marius sad to think about, so he shoved the thought away and smiled as he said: “Well, I’m proud you made it this far, well done. I’m glad to know you have at least some food in your system.���

Jonny visually brightened at Marius words and allowed a pleased smile to take over his features as he sagged back onto Tim.

It was nearing evening and all three knew that soon most of the others would come barging in expecting dinner, which had been Jonnys turn to provide and the reason Tim had bothered trying to wake him up in the first place.

“We should probably get him out of here so that all the commotion and shit won’t make him feel worse.” Ashes broached the subject.

“Yeah, a proper bed will help as well.” Tim agreed.

Marius rolled his eyes and said: “I’ll cook, just take care of him, alright?”

“Thank you, Marius.” the two grinned.

Tim easily swept Jonny up in his arms bridal carry, but Jonnys stomach didn’t agree with the sudden movement, so Ashes had to quickly grab the bin and hold it up to Jonnys mouth as he emptied his stomach of most of its contents once more.

Jonny made a pitiful sound as Tim softly apologized over and over again as he started walking, gently swaying Jonny a bit until he had calmed down.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked, squinting.

“We’re taking you to a proper bed, sweetheart, you need it to get better.” Ashes answered him from where they were walking next to Tim.

A look of fear flashed over Jonnys features and he timidly asked: “Are you going to leave me there?”

The vulnerability in his eyes stabbed Tim in his chest and he took a different turn than he had planned as he smiled: “Course not, Jonny. Your bed smell of sickness, so I’m taking you to mine and I’m going to make sure you don’t vomit in it.”

“I’m not gonna do that.” Jonny huffed, but the relief was clear on his face and it was kind of hard to look grumpy while he was literally being cradled in Tims arms.

“I know.” Tim said teasingly as he rolled his eyes.

Ashes didn’t comment on Tims softness to their First Mate, since he hadn’t said anything about the pet name and the caring of them either. It was a silent pact that they weren’t going to mention this ever again, teasing long since forgotten, and gauging Jonnys actions it was likely he wasn’t going to either.

They opened the door to Tims room and allowed him to pass them.

He gently put Jonny down, before tucking him in, he then took the bin to the bathroom where he emptied and rinsed it.

When he returned Jonny was barely clinging to consciousness, but he was fighting against the sleep as he clutched to Ashes hand.

Tim sat down next to him on the bed and told Ashes: “You can stay if you want, but you can also come relieve me in a while and save some food for me. We’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” they asked.

Getting conformation from both, they nodded: “Then I’ll check up on you after dinner and if he’s too annoying I won’t mind watching over him for tonight.”

Tim chuckled and Jonny pouted as Ashes left. They would return later to find the two fast asleep in each others arms with Jonnys head resting on Tims chest. They would laugh silently at them, before leaving again, promising themself to check up on them the next day.

In the morning Tim would pass Jonny over to Ashes, promising to come back with a smile and a ruffle of Jonnys hair.

It took a whole week for Jonny to recover and the news of him being sick traveled quickly through the crew, everyone had watched over him for at least a few hours, though Ashes, Marius and Tim were pretty protective over their time with Jonny and took the lion share.

As the week passed and Jonny got better, it became increasingly difficult to take care of him. He kept insisting that he wasn’t weak, which most found stupid, because he was literally sick and being sick or needing some care wasn’t weak.

However, it was pretty easy to convince him to accept their affection, even if they did have to fight for each piece of comfort given to him.

When he finally did feel better, he celebrated by making a big meal for everyone, happy that it wouldn't make him vomit anymore. Though most knew it was also his way of saying thank you, both for taking care of him and not mentioning it.

The crew accepted the meal gladly and kept their mouths shut about the whole thing, but Jonny did hug everyone a bit more, which was a good improvement.

Everyone needed some caring every now and again.

[katrandomwrites]

AO3 Link \ Part Two [soon]

Short vignettes from each of the crew and their relationship with Jonny's heart.

(Is it out of character? Yeah probably but I like the sibling-esque dynamic of ‘I killed them 83 times this month but if you even touch them I will salt the earth with your desiccated remains’.)

---

Part One: Dr. Carmilla (morally grey), Jonny, The Aurora, Nastya, Ashes, and Ivy TW// mention of medical abuse | canon-typical violence | sensory overload

Doctor Carmilla, Lonely Vampire

She was proud looking down at the freshly cleaned and repaired body on her table. His chest rose and fell after a week of stillness. Carmilla almost couldn't believe that she’d finally done it. Finally restored a body to life permanently.

Her cowboy groaned as he came closer to consciousness. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the tick and flow of his new heart. It was a good heart. He was a good kid.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

Everything could be good now.

Jonny Vangelis, Dead Cowboy

Jonny woke up. He shouldn't- How was he-

Something was ticking. Where?

His chest felt heavy and his breast bone burned.

Something cold was in his hand- no, something cold was holding his hand.

His eyes shot open and he scrambled away from the cold thing only to find himself falling to the floor. He screamed when the impact lit a blazing fire of pain in his ribs.

The cold (hands?) things were back holding his face and shushing him but the pain began to pulse.

Tic. Burn. Tic. Burn.

Jonny pulled down the collar of his shirt to see a mess of thick scars and metal seams to the left of his sternum. His breathing quickened but the ticking held it’s tempo.

“What did you do?” he screamed. Carmilla’s face was inches from his as she tried to pull him closer.

“WHAT DID YOU DO, CARMA?”

The doctor’s face broke, as if she was only now realizing what was happening; what she’d done, “I-I couldn’t lose you… not like that. Not when you were still so you-”

“You promised! You promised you’d let me go!” Jonny cried.

“I’m sorry,”

Tears were falling now as Carmilla pulled him against her. Jonny tried to push her off but the pain was too much and the coolness of her cheek against his was soothing.

“It hurts,” he sobbed, “It hurts so much. Why?”

I’m sorry.

The Aurora, Cyberian Battle-cruiser

The winner of the roulette game and her new 'owner' sauntered onto the bridge and looked around. She contemplated just electrocuting him to death once he touched anything.

"I must say you are a simply gorgeous craft," he said, running a hand over the embossed leather of the captain’s seat, "Somebody put a lot of love into your creation."

The Aurora preened a bit despite herself. At least he had good taste.

“I’m gonna have to go by some polish tho, love. You are absolutely filthy! Where they finger painting with space cheetos on the flight screen,” he looked disgusted at the greasy smears decorating the console, “Maybe a steamer? Some of this shit is worked in, darling.”

>> Thank you. I would appreciate that greatly.

The intruder looked bewildered at the flight screen and fell back into the captain's seat when she rumbled in amusement. He whipped his head around as if to find a source or rogue crewman.

>> Did you really just win a ship without knowing what it was?

>> Poor planning on your part.

The intruder took a moment to process what was happening before he crossed his arms and huffed, "I just do what the Doc tells me so she doesn't decide that I'm in need of having my chest ripped open again."

>> Judging by the way you won me: I would say that isn't detrimental to your life.

"It still fucking hurts!"

The Aurora rumbled again, finding that she quite enjoyed her guest. He may be fussing in the captain's seat, pretending to be offended, but he was still watching the screen for anything else she had to say.

It had been years since anyone had treated her as anything other than just a means of transportation with the downside of sentience. She found herself analysing him closer and realized there was a mechanically ticking coming from him.

Was he also…?

>> Well, I suppose I must register you as Captain so we may take off. I am unable to lift off without any registered crew.

Her guest shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Not that I don't appreciate that but, uh, I think that's more her place."

The Aurora was starting to get the idea that whoever his travel companion was, they would not be getting along.

>> No

He startled and Aurora realized just how young he looked. Her previous crews were all older Cyberians weathered and jaded by constant battle. This new…. boy, looked more like the young men barely old enough to grow beards that manned her mess hall during the war.

She still remembered the sad stories they told of home.

>> No. You earned me. I am choosing you as the Captain.

"But-"

She buzzed at him before pulling up a login screen.

>> Primary Captain : Please Enter Your Information As Prompted_

Her guest hesitated before beginning to type. It was endearing how gently he placed his hand over the print reader and she could feel the strange rhythm of his heartbeat flitting across his palm.

>> Welcome Captain Jonathon E. Vangelis .

Jonathon beamed at the Aurora's screen before a look of horror dawned on him, "She's going to skin me alive," he whispered.

The Aurora hummed as anger charged her systems and pulled up another screen.

>> I have an idea

>> Loading…

>> Primary Captain profile locked and hidden.

>> Passcode Set to: Handprint and Vocal Verification

>> Loading...

>> First Mate : Please Enter Your Information As Prompted_

“But she’ll know if the Captain’s position is filled” Jonathan protested.

>> I was built to house up to three captains. Your doctor doesn’t have to know that one of the positions has been filled.

Jonathon stared at the screen with a small smile and sniffled before typing again. His accent that had rounded and drawn his words was muted under an average Basic dialect as he spoke now.

>> Welcome, First Mate Jonny d'Ville .

>> Now about those cleaning supplies...

Nastya Rasputina, Former Princess

She ran, following the instructions the Aurora had given her deeper into the ship. She turned to make sure the doctor wasn't following her and ran directly into something warm and squishy. They landed with a grunt.

Nastya scrambled up to look at the… kid? He looked at her in surprise before turning to anger and suspicion..

"How the fuck did you get down here?"

Nastya opened her mouth and realized she didn’t have a response to that. Her eyes began to burn.

“Oh shit. Fuck. I’m sorry I didn’t- Shit shit shit.”

None of this registered as Nastya began to sob. A hand brushed her arm and she threw herself into the boy’s lap. It was undignified but it felt good to be touched by a warm body instead of the doctor’s cold hands.

“Okay, shit,” he shifted her around so her face was buried in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry-, Nastya choked out, “she-she just kept poking and I couldn’t- it hurt so much.”

The arms around her shoulders tightened, causing her to turn her head and look up at him. He looked sad, not in a pitying way but a guilty way.

“I’ll talk to her okay? Sometimes… sometimes she forgets we can feel like that,” he sighed, “I’m Jonny by the way.”

Nastya vaguely remembered the Doctor mentioning there was another like her on board.

“Nastya.”

Jonny gave her a smile and leaned back against the wall with her still pressed against his chest. Nastya rested her head on his sternum and heard an odd ticking sound.

Huh , she thought distantly, that’s why he’s like me. The ticking heart to my metal blood.

Nastya fell asleep safe.

Ashes O’Reilly, Pyromaniac Gangster

Ashes took another shakey drag of their cigarette as the adrenaline from burning Malone faded. They were tired and a rotting sense of uneasy was beginning to fester in their chest.

Of course now was the time Camilla's wannabe cowboy decided to make an appearance for only the second time since Ashes had been taken in. He gave them a strange look before Ashes blew a hole in his gut.

He hit the floor with a dull thud, “Fucking rude.”

“I’m not the one who can’t knock. Were you born in a fucking barn?”

Jonny gave a sputtering laugh as he scooped a handful of intestines back into his abdomen, “Probably, either that or the chicken coop.”

Ashes snorted, the sound surprised them and Jonny grinned.

"Probably made in there too," Jonny continued, not bothering to get up when his stomach healed.

Ashes let out a full body laugh that edged into hysterical. The image of a guy in cowboy boots pushing intestines back into their gut and cracking jokes was unreal. Even after managing to burn down an entire planet.

“Uh, you okay?”

Jonny was standing in front of them now. A look of concern on his face.

Ashes rubbed a hand across their face and realized hot tears were beginning to streak down their cheeks.

They were so tired.

“I’m just-” their breathing hitched but they refused to cry, “I’m just tired. Arson really takes it out of you, ya’ know?”

Jonny’s mouth twisted into a forced smile before he sat down on the bed with them, “This may be over stepping, so go ahead and throw me out if you want but, uh, if you need to sleep, without the nightmares, I might be able to help.”

“Who said anything about nightmares?” Ashes shifted away from him.

Jonny rolled his eyes, “Do you want help or not?”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me to sleep?”

“No, but Nastya-” Jonny’s ears turned red, “Nastya says that my ‘heartbeat’ always knocks her out. Something about the rhythm being perfectly consistent? It’s just an offer, if you’re not comf-”

“I’d like that,” Ashes said, looking away, “I’m actually not all that used to having my own room and sleeping alone yet. Never had the opportunity even in the Sevens.”

Jonny gave them a small smile before being manhandled into a pile of carefully arranged pillows. His shirt was unceremoniously ripped off in exchange for one of Ashes’ cleaner shirts. (They would not be getting that shirt back)

Ashes gave their set up a hard once over now that there was a cowboy shoved in with their stuffed Charizard before climbing in and resting their body over his.

He wiggled to get an arm free and began to run it carefully through their hair. It didn’t take long before the both of them were asleep.

Ivy Alexandria, Amnesiac Librarian

Everything was too loud and bad . Ivy stumbled through the halls with her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block it out when the 'it' is her own brain.

She opens her eyes for a moment and instantly regrets it as everything around her seems to shout directly into her mind.

It hurt. Why did it have to hurt?

At some point she managed to find a dark place to wedge herself into and tears are soaking her collar by the time somebody finds her. She can't focus on anything but the metallic whine of her brain and the presence of something loud that she must get away from when a callused hand is suddenly holding her arm and stops the bad feeling there.

She gasps and grabs for the thing (person?) that makes the bad go away, landing in it’s lap. It rumbles something and positions her so her ear is pressed against it.

Ivy wants to fight it and sit up but then she hears something through the whining in her head.

shht tic shht tic shht tic

Hands wind around her shoulders and tangle in the hair at the base of her neck as she begins to relax and start counting the ticks.

_PersonelID [Jonny d'Ville, First Mate]

_MechID [HeartV.3.4]

__ 70 beats per minute

__Operation Efficiency [87%]

_System Notification: Access Granted to [JEVan_HeartCntrlUnit]

_MasterCommandEntry Opened

_[Assisted_SleepCycle] Enabled

_Countdown Begins

_3

_2

_1

_

[muddyhippy]

Amazing artwork of Ivy and Lily done by @smolghostings​ who is entirely awesome and melted my heart with all her Lily and the Mechs fanart! 

Night Terrors, Chapter 6 : Pageturner

Chapter on AO3 Here

New chapter! Sorry it’s taken a while everyone but the new chapter featuring Ivy is now up! 

                                                  Pageturner

Lily made her way carefully towards the Library. It was very late but she knew Ivy would still be up. Ivy was always up. Except when they had all slept together on her first night. That had been really nice. Lily hoped they’d have another big sleepy cuddle soon, it was where she felt safest. Even safer than when she was in Jonny’s arms, tucked up against his chest, listening to him tick. Which was very, very safe in her opinion.

 She didn’t want to bother Jonny. Not tonight.  This was something she needed to do herself. She was a big girl after all. She was eight whole years old and she had to know the ending of the story. She’d dreamt about it and it had ended very badly so now she needed to know the truth of it.

 She knocked carefully on the side of the open door, “Ivy? Ivy are you there?”

Lily waited a few moments before trying again, “Ivy?” She called, a little louder.

 “Yes?” A familiar voice answered from somewhere out of sight.

 Relief flooded Lily, “Can I come in please?”

 “Yes.”

 Lily stepped in very carefully looking around for the archivist. “Ivy?”

 The archivist appeared from the depths of one of the stacks, assessing the nervous-looking little girl in one glance, “Given the current ship’s time and the fact that you are here unaccompanied you have had a nightmare and you cannot find Jonny?” Ivy tried to keep the mild annoyance from her voice, nightmare duty was very much Jonny’s territory and she had been in the midst of some long overdue re-stacking.

 Lily sniffed, rubbing her sleeve across her face making her look even younger, her other hand clutching something grey and fuzzy Ivy couldn’t quite make out.  

 “Had a nightmare, didn’t look for Jonny, wanted you.”

 That made Ivy pause, brusque response dying on her lips, there was a 74% likelihood that Ivy would be the 8th choice for comfort, only ahead of Ashes given the quartermaster’s well documented dislike of physical contact.

 “Why?”

 “Had a nightmare about the story I’m reading, dreamt it had a very bad ending. Wanted to make sure it wasn’t true.”

 Ivy considered, Lily’s bright liquid eyes were full of unshed tears and felt herself soften in sympathy. She knew that concern, usually the concern of whether the book was going to have a satisfying ending or not rather than the obvious ���happy’ one Lily was clearly hoping for but it was the same principle. And it was deeply pleasing to see the child so invested in a book Ivy had provided.

 Ivy found she enjoyed offering choices to the child, the archivist had quickly read all the English language books (Ivy was determined to get her confident in English before fully embarking on a new language since that was what Lily currently spoke and understood and she didn’t want to overwhelm her which too much information. Ivy had had several information overloads over the centuries and it had taken several of her crewmates to help calm her down and console her) deemed suitable for a young audience by the authors in her vast collection and had begun a list that detailed all the books that seemed in keeping with the child’s interests, both the emergant ones and the ones she was now getting comfortable enough to voice. Ivy had pulled out as many English language books she had on geology, with a specificity on minerals and gemstones, Lily’s eyes had lit up at the sight of so many crystals, apparently she didn’t know that they could be so many different colours.  

 The interests she was discovering with the crew was a pleasure to source and support, she was one of the few members of the crew who actively sought knowledge and stories out from the library, with a few notable exceptions in recent months. The other’s reading habits not-withstanding, the archivist had added more and more books to Lily’s shelves (that had needed extra levels installing) covering a range of topics, from tea party traditions, recipes from several worlds, horse riding and non-lethal junior science to guns, galaxies and gobstoppers. Ivy liked being able to use her collection for the benefit of the crew and did so to inform them on upcoming planetary visits if she had something that covered them or hunted down more star charts and galaxy guides for the terminally curious but this was something else.

 Ivy had never had the opportunity to nurture a young mind before, one with no prejudice or preconceptions other than her general sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and that if it was a fictional story she wanted there to be a happy ending. Which honestly was reasonable given how painfully aware Lily was that happy-ever-afters were not a common thing.  

 As it was, Ivy knew the ending of the story Lily was reading, she could just tell her and send her back to bed but it seemed hardly fair to rob her of the experience of discovering it herself. These things, reading a story for the first time was a journey, something to be experienced, sometimes endured but always enjoyed in the end if the writing was compelling enough and made you care enough about the outcome.

 Lily certainly cared enough.

 Lily cared.

 It was her default setting.

 It was something Ivy appreciated even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to engage with it. She and Lily often sat together for at least an hour a day reading, Ivy helping her with new words she didn’t understand and having her say them aloud until she got the hang of how the word felt in her mouth, saying it clearly and in context.

 Ivy was rather proud how much Lily’s vocabulary had increased over the past three and a half months, the archivist hadn’t thought much to teaching, leaving the others to come and go in their reading habits without comment or judgement so long as the books were put back exactly where they belonged and in the same condition when they were done. And if she placed a few specific books on specific easy-to-reach shelves where certain adults would know where to look when they came into the library in the middle of the night looking shaken and sleep-ruffled, well that was neither here or there.

 Ivy enjoyed watching Lily enjoy reading her stories, the child had made her way through an impressive chunk of Ivy’s collection so far and the archivist had been actively seeking more child-appropriate content for Lily on each new planet they visited in order to ensure she never ran out of books for Lily to absorb, it was an excellent new strand to her acquisition quest, after all, she’d never made as diligent an effort to collect children’s stories before, there had been no real point. And if she had developed the practice of reading each book before putting it on to Lily’s shelves well, she was just being a responsible librarian.

 Ivy nodded to the little girl, “Alright then, you know where it is, go and get it and find your answer, I’ll be here if you need me.”

 Lily took a step forward towards Ivy then stopped herself, “Thank you Ivy.”

 Lily scurried to fetch her book and settle on her usual cushion.

 That was odd, Lily was often keen for physical affection, she’d developed a specific sign of affection for Ivy which the archivist appreciated since she struggled to acquiesce easily to the exuberant affection Lily asked for and got from the others but Lily’d never paused like that before.

 The archivist considered, allowing a raft of calculations to wash over her, hmm… there was an 83% chance Lily felt uncomfortable about coming to library past her bedtime since that was something that had seemed pretty sacred to her and the ensuing ritual she and Jonny had developed of Lily saying goodnight to everyone she could see, taking his hand and having him tell her a story until she fell asleep, that, for Lily was the end of one day. Ivy had wondered if the distinction between night and day for Lily was important in accepting when she was ‘safe’ and when she had to be on guard from her nightmares. It was also possible with a 61% likelihood that Lily felt that she should not seek comfort when she was clearly trying to manage her reaction to this particular nightmare on her own especially given the lack of Jonny in tow. It was also highly likely (87%) Lily was keen to show her maturity in the face of a nightmare when faced with someone whom she did not interact with often when in this particularly vulnerable state.

 That seemed like a foolish endeavour since the whole crew knew just how tactile Lily was after a nightmare, most of them had seen her being comforted by Jonny as he sang to her whilst he carried her around the corridors at least once, the child clinging to him like an especially sticky octokitten. More often Ivy knew Lily sought out the first mate in his room and climbed into his bunk to settle back down to sleep but there were a few nights she screeched Hell Fire or even more rarely, she was too miserable to settle which had Jonny crooning gently to her instead as he walked the corridors, the motion of his movement coupled with the sounds of his heart reassuring her that she was not alone.

 It was so deeply incongruent to see this gentle side of Jonny appear seemingly out of nowhere though it was becoming a common sight which was possibly even stranger.

 Even more incongruently, for some reason the child very much liked the ‘Alice’ sequence.

 The others including herself challenged him on it one night after bedtime since it was hardly one of their friendlier stories, but then again, they didn’t really go in for that sort of thing full stop and he argued it was the first thing he thought to sing when she didn’t want the Rose and Cinders story again that night, he didn’t know the Cadence tale well enough and Hereward was Tim’s song.

 And, he argued, he couldn’t very well sing their stories to her since they’d not actually talked to her about their Mechanisms yet. He had grudgingly admitted he’d panicked when he remembered the ending of Alice halfway through the last section and impulsively added a ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ in desperation. Thankfully, she’d just accepted it, possibly because she was just exhausted but for whatever reason, she liked it, especially Hatter and Hare.

 Tim and Brian had been rather pleased about that, both thoroughly enjoying surprising her with that one dinner time as she started to set the table, breaking out into the song, dancing with each other and then with Lily waltzing around the mess table as the Toy Soldier poured tea for everyone utterly thrilled that everyone present wanted a cup. All three of them danced with it in turn as well making its smile somehow even wider.

 Aurora had recorded it all and shown the others after Lily had fizzed with excitement telling the rest of the crew when they came to sit down for dinner. It had been one of the honestly most wholesome things Ivy thought she’d ever witnessed. And she’d seen a lot. Both physically and within the myriad of stories she read.

 Ivy considered, she wondered if she was supposed to go and check on the child since she’d shown up obviously upset after a very specific nightmare but Ivy had no idea what she was supposed to do in comforting Lily. Ivy was not a singer, not like most of her crewmates, her music was enough to share but maybe Lily needed more? It was highly likely (68% in fact) that her statement about not wanting Jonny but in fact Ivy, was actually a cover. Not enough of a cover to mask the fact that despite Lily wanting to be seen as an adult that could solve her own problems she was very much a child still, a child who was vulnerable and upset and needed comforting post-nightmare. Something Ivy felt woefully unprepared to tackle.

 She was already reaching for her communicator when a wobbly voice called out,

 “Ivy?”

 “Yes?”

 Little feet pattered through the stacks and appeared looking even blotchier-faced.

 “Are you alright?” enquired a very unsure Archivist.

 Ivy knew the ending, the ending that was most assuredly happy. It was happy and good and satisfying for young readers and adults if they liked satisfying, comfortable endings. If Lily had read the ending already it should not have provoked this response. Also it was highly unlikely Lily could have reached the ending in the time that had elapsed. There were still seven chapters to go and Lily had an average reading speed of a page every 52 seconds (Something Ivy was very proud of, Lily’s reading speed had increased by 14 seconds since joining them and her confidence in reading aloud had doubled).

 With rising panic her fingers inched back for the communicator

 Lily held up her right hand, fingers splayed.

 Ivy responded immediately, stepping forwards carefully, gently pressing each fingertip to Lily’s.

 Ivy was honestly surprised the child had remembered in her upset.

 It was something she did with Ivy and only Ivy when she came to read but that was always when the little girl was happy and excited.

 Lily had asked her if she could give Ivy a ‘finger hug’ the second time she ever came to visit the library, three days after she joined the crew.

 That had taken the archivist by surprise.

 “A finger hug?” Questioned Ivy. She quickly wracked her memory files to pull up some form of record or reference to such a thing and came up empty.

 “Yes.” Lily held up her little hand fingers and thumb splayed wide, “we touch our fingers together and it means we’re hugging.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you don’t really like hugs and I want to hug you because I think you’re really nice and kind to let me come into the library and read real books even though they’re very special but I don’t want to make you feel bad by hugging you because that’s not nice or kind to do so if you like this instead then I can hug you without making you feel, um, icky.” Lily trailed off in the face of Ivy’s intense gaze.

 Lily’s words, if phrased a little childishly, were deeply heart-felt.

 Ivy felt herself bluescreen.

 She hadn’t said a word to Lily about not being overly comfortably or confident with physical affection, Jonny had prompted Lily to ask for permission to hold her hand but that was it. She filed that away for future reference on how perceptive Lily was. The others should be made aware of this since they liked to think they were subtle.

 Then again, it could be entertaining to watch them get caught out by a tiny observer.

 Thing was, it was an observation that was made and then used to inform a kind action.

 That was not a very common activity on board the Aurora. Or at least, not an activity anyone would ever own up to.

 Ivy felt herself melt a little, it was such a simple consideration but a very welcome one. Even in the three days Lily had been on board, Lily had shown an emotional maturity that was far beyond her years, the child listened and watched the crew carefully, obviously trying to pick up on what was acceptable behaviour and responses.

 Partly this seemed to be a survival instinct, Lily could, after all, be classed as prey amongst a den of predators.

 Ivy had shuddered internally at that comparison, it felt wrong, even though her crewmates were epitome of dangerous they’d all made a concerted effort to be gentle with Lily, maybe more like a cub in a den of predators? That felt oddly more appropriate despite the notion of any of the Mechanisms actually having children of their own was not only a statistical impossibility from a physical perspective but one so far-removed from the general outlooks of them all to be deemed laughable.

 And yet.

 The behaviours exhibited so far by Jonny, Marius, Brian and more surprisingly Raphaella and Ashes (albeit from a distance) seemed to hint if not possessing buried parental instincts at least a sense of affinity and empathy. The others had yet to be truly tested however there was at least a 79% chance Tim would also begin to display elder sibling behaviours if not a full paternal instinct. It was fascinating to see.

 The Toy Soldier was very pleased to have a new friend. Lily had already been seen happily playing with it in the three days she’d been on board, they’d raced past the library door the previous, day, a piping little voice shouting ‘Tig!’ triumphantly, also given how much TS loved the crew it was likely that affection would carry over to Lily as well gifting the child with a friendship that would be unbreakable. Nastya had not been around enough to observe but Ivy suspected the engineer was also harbouring an affinity with the child as well, both of them having survived (relatively speaking in Nastya’s case) the murder of her family and the destruction of all she knew.

 And then there was herself.

 Ivy could and was in the process of reading any and all child-rearing health books she had in her library to help out Raphaella’s research. Ivy had no memories of her own childhood, be they wants, needs or behaviours. She was 89% sure she had her passion for reading and acquiring knowledge from an extremely early age but she had not real framework to apply from her own experiences.

 Ivy tried not to think about all the lost memory data of hers, and normally she could and did avoid it but there had been so much chatter surrounding the subject of reminiscence, almost all of them, even Nastya, had offered tidbits of their own long-unthought of childhood. She and Brian had taken silent solace in one another, both listening politely for a while before quietly leaving for the bridge together to enjoy one another’s companionable peace.

 She focused on learning the facts as she always did. It helped to ground her in the here and now and real knowledge of the universe. She knew the vitamins and minerals required for a human child to grow well, the quantities and the various sources they could be obtained from. Ivy knew to the minute the amount of sleep needed for a child Lily’s age and that routine was apparently good for them. It especially seemed it was important to avoid Lily being allowed to become something called ‘overtired’ when small children apparently turn into some sort of armed grenade and the explosions had a myriad of options of being tearful, rage-filled or both.

 Ivy wasn’t sure how the others would handle a small child that detonated like that. Then again, the first night she was with them was enough of a shock when she burst into hysterical tears over Tim and Marius being shot. That, that had been unexpected in how the others had reacted. There was a 47% chance one of them would shoot her on instinct on sheer noise alone since her cries had sounded like some sort of terrible warning siren, however, when she had appeared wailing on Jonny’s hip that chance had dropped to 7%.

 Ivy had actually been surprised at the fury on the first mate’s face, she hadn’t seen him that angry since Tim had been mechanised and Carmilla had had her ‘accident’ shortly thereafter.

 She had been more surprised initially at the child’s distress at Tim and Marius’ deaths, then had to remind herself that the likelihood of the child having significant trauma responses to witnessing violence were 99.9% coupled with the fact that seeing people die in her experience was a decidedly permanent event. Her ship had certainly been an event.

 Ivy was not anywhere near as happy in conflict and gunfire as her crewmates but she was no shrinking violet, more like a knowing foxglove.  She’d seen and perpetrated her share of horrible murder and destruction but there was something about Lily’s ship, something raw, the murder in her ship was gleeful even beyond Jonny’s most manic rampages. And Lily had been surviving in the aftermath for three full weeks.

 It didn’t sit right with Ivy, it was something she was researching into since Jonny had spoken to them all about Lily’s desire for revenge when she was of age. She would find those who had wreaked havoc through Lily’s people.

 So yes, Lily’s upset was more than a little understandable in hindsight. What had caught Ivy completely off guard had been that the child had sought comfort from all of them, she had assumed Jonny would remain the primary form of comfort eschewing all others with Raphaella taking a distant second place due the science officer wrangling the child into the shower. That too had been unexpected, Ivy would have thought that she was purely motivated by opportunity to make closer observations for her research which was 83% correct but the look on her face when she returned with Lily and Jonny to the mess there had been a softness on her face that had repeated after the incident with Tim and Marius.

 Lily had wanted comfort from them all and everyone, everyone had complied. She had calculated the chances being 3% at the most. But everyone, even Nastya, even herself had, at the very least, held the distraught child.

 Raphaella had handed her the child and she hadn’t known what to do with her but it seemed to be enough, Lily did most of the work. It had been strange having a living, breathing creature in her arms that wasn’t an octokitten, not unpleasant per se but something she was not terribly confident or comfortable with.

 And Lily had realised within three days.

 And presented the ‘fingertip hug’ option.

 An option that Ivy took every time the child came to visit.

 Ivy had begun to enjoy the child’s company over the course of the three and half months she had been with them. She came every day without fail, knocking politely and waiting to be invited inside before offering her usual greeting, finding her book and settling down on what rapidly became ‘her’ cushion. She’d beamed when Ivy gave her a bookmark after the archivist ascertained the child tried to remember the page she’d finished on and didn’t always succeed.

 Every so often she would approach Ivy to ask for help with a word and its meaning. Initially Ivy had resented the interruptions to her own reading but she always answered, the child wanted knowledge after all. After a while she began to appreciate the child’s joy at each explanation, thrilled to be learning something new. Ivy realised Lily wasn’t asking to be a bother unlike the rest of her crewmates most of the time, she was asking because she genuinely wanted to learn and appreciated Ivy taking the time to tell her.

 After three weeks of observed behaviour there was an 84% chance Lily had not had overtly positive experiences with adults outside of her own parents. Nothing particularly negative but the way she responded to anyone taking time to tell her anything or answering a question she asked it was clear this did not happen often nor did she expect them to engage with her as often (read: every time she asked) as they did.

 Ivy resolved to be as encouraging as she could be on Lily’s search for stories and knowledge. She found her books, began to listen to the child read aloud and always helped with new or difficult words.

 Lily never cuddled up to her the way she did Jonny, Brian, Marius, TS or Raphaella or the way she started to after the whole hair brushing incident with Tim. But still. She would bring her pillow near to where Ivy was reading to practice her own literacy skills.

 Right now though she was faced with a very distraught looking Lily doing the fingertip hug clearly about to disintegrate.

 “What’s the matter?”

 “I, I want to read the story but I’m scared I’ll get tears on it by accident, because, because they, they keep escaping and I don’t want to ruin your book but I want to know the answer!”

 At this point Lily did dissolve in tears.

 Ivy realised that there was a 37% chance she’d never been quite as consciously terrified as she was presented with a sobbing little girl.

 “Er, would you like a hug?”

 Lily sobbed and tried to swallow, rubbing a sleeve across her streaming eyes, “Are, are you sure?” she wept out.

 “No, but you’re clearly deeply unhappy and there is an 87% chance a hug will make you feel better and I would like to help make you feel better.”

 Lily gave her the wobbliest smile Ivy had ever seen then carefully approached the archivist, waiting for Ivy’s arms to wrap around her before sinking into the safety of warm, living adult.

 Ivy felt the child melt into her.

 There was an unexpected warmth that bloomed in her chest. There was an 92% likelihood she was experiencing a sense of familial bonding, she quickly compared it to how she felt when working in collaboration with Raphaella on an experiment or sitting with Brian in companionable quiet on the bridge or even taking part in a satisfactory music practice with the whole crew. The feeling was remarkably similar.

 That was, surprising but encouraging all the same.

 She felt like she might not end up being too poor a substitute for the first mate.

 She still wasn’t sure how Jonny managed this so easily though.

 It was a common enough if still strange sight to see Lily limpeted to Jonny, clinging on tightly but he held her as if he’d always been doing that, as if his arms were made to hold her, like Lily was made to fit perfectly into his side. There were many, many, many things Ivy could and did criticise Jonny for but he’d taken to this with an aplomb none of them had anticipated. Even within those first few minutes Ivy could not have predicted Jonny taking hold of the child when she ran at him. Ivy had braced to witness a child die due to long-hone instincts wherein, with a chance of less than 1% Jonny hadn’t shot her, too shocked initially it seemed then some sort of buried sense of paternity reared its head from the depths. It has been fascinating to watch from a distance.

 Now Ivy was experiencing something like that without the presence and dare she admit it, safety of her crewmates to take point on the interaction.

 Ivy had never felt overtly comfortable around anyone since she woke up on Aurora head full of facts yet empty of memories. She found she worried often of not having the ‘right’ reactions due to her positronic brain and so limited the factors that would expose her to those situations. Books were safer, she knew what they expected from and in return there was a comforting predictability in learning.  

 There was very little predictable about Lily.

 Well that wasn’t entirely fair. The child was kind and loving and concerned with making sure everyone felt included in whatever was happening (that spoke volumes about the child’s existing experiences with her own shipmates but that was hardly the point at present). She wanted positive attention and was thrilled to get it, she liked to hug and be physically reassured by the others after a scare or when she was being praised.

 Lily, if you broke her down to her fundamentals, was not too hard to comprehend.

 She wanted to be loved.

 The hard part came in that the Mechanisms did not deal readily in love. None would claim to have any real solid experience, maybe Nastya and Tim but it wasn’t the same sort of familial love. Jonny was not-so-secretly a romantic at heart (though he’d shoot you if you pointed it out) but again it wasn’t the same. They were trying their best but none of them really came from loving families, those that could remember at least.  

 They were running of half-forgotten instincts that all adults of a species apparently carried coded into their beings from the earliest dawn of sentience.

 ‘Protect the young.’

 Ivy, now with a sobbing Lily attached to her, felt what must be that same drive begin to stir.

 A hesitant hand raised to rub carefully up and down Lily’s back.

 Lily cuddled closer.

 Well that must be the right approach.

 Ivy continued to run her hand up and down Lily’s small back as the child cried into the archivist’s neck. After a while the tears began to slow.

 “M’sorry.”

 “What for?”

 “For making you hug me and getting your collar all soggy.”

 Well that wouldn’t do at all. Ivy might not be a fan of overt physical contact but no one made her do anything she didn’t want to.

 She pulled Lily off her enough to face her, the child’s huge blue eyes looking like glowing lagoons, swimming with spilling tears.

 “Now listen to me Lily, no one makes me do anything I don’t want to do, not when it comes to something like this. I am comforting you because I want to and you want me to. No one can make you hug or even touch someone if you don’t want to. The other person has to want it too. I am hugging you because you want me to and I want to help you. Understand me?”

 “Y”-she hiccupped-“es.”

 “Good.” Ivy paused, not sure where to go from there. She sent out a desperate burst of data requests trying to grasp any suggestions that might help.

 The image of Lily sitting on Jonny’s lap at the mess table when she first joined them. Lily sat on Brian’s lap on the bridge asking him hundreds of questions about music and stars. Lily perched on Raphaella’s lap frowning in concentration as she practices plaiting her long golden waves. Lily tucked up on Marius’ lap between his violin and bow arm, humming along with the tunes he played. Lily settled on Tim’s lap smiling as the gunner carefully brushed her wild mop of tangles smooth.

 Each time Lily was settled and safe and happy.

 “Would, would you like to sit on my lap and I’ll read the rest of the story to you? That way we won’t risk you getting the book damp.”

 Lily’s face lit up in a blinding smile.

 Clearly that was the right thing to offer.

 “Alright then, let’s go get the book.”

 Ivy took Lily’s hand because that was also clearly the thing to do in this situation, she’d seen Lily hold hands with the others when heading somewhere together and the child had asked to hold her hand the first time she came to the library. That was bound to help comfort her.

 Lily clung to her hand like a lifeline.

 Ivy took in the sight of the neat spot Lily usually occupied, cushions in a tidy pile and her book in its proper place on the shelf.

 Even upset she’d respected the books.

 Ivy felt her chest flood with warmth.

 “Alright then,” she picked up the title in question, settled comfortably in the nest of pillows that had accumulated then gestured to Lily, “come on Liliput, get comfortable.”

 Lily stared at her.

 Ivy stared right back, shocked at the name that had slipped from her so easily.

 “What does that mean?”

 “It’s the name of a town where people live whom Gulliver visits during his travels, they’re very small but kind to him.”

 “Who’s Gulliver?”

 “Lemuel Gulliver is the protagonist of Jonathan Swift’s adventure story ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ he’s an explorer who sails across the Oceans of Earth—”

 “That’s Tim’s home planet isn’t it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Did Tim meet him?”

 Ivy smiled at the question. “No, Gulliver wasn’t a real person, his story is also set roughly 500 years before Tim’s time.”

 Lily considered, Ivy could see the numbers totting up in the child’s mind.

 “That’s a lot.” she offered finally.

 “Yes it is.”

 “So he was a made up adventurer?”

 “And explorer. He sailed to different islands to meet different civilisations.”

 “Ooh. Did he not have a spaceship?”

 “No this story was set before spaceships had been invented.”

 “Oh. A VERY long, long ago then?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can I read it next?”

 “Yes, I can find you a copy.”

 Lily sniffed. “Thank you, you’re the best.” Declared Lily earnestly.

 Ivy smiled again, honestly touched by the sincerity.

 “Thank you. Now do you want to sit down and finish this story?”

 “Yes please!”

 Lily needed no more encouragement, she settled into Ivy’s lap as though she’d always been there, leaning against Ivy’s chest letting out a satisfied sigh. Ivy smelled of paper, of warm leather and the comfort of stories to be told. It was rare she got this close to Ivy, Lily savoured it as much as she could, it was very different to the rest of them, to Jonny or Marius or Raphaella but it was just as nice, just as a part of her sense of safety as every other scent of them was.

 Paper, wood, resin, wild flowers, leather, cordite, oil, wool, resin, tea, smoke, spice and whiskey

 It was home.

 Ivy’s breath caught, she wasn’t sure how she expected it to feel having Lily in her lap, uncomfortable? Awkward? Something that she’d have to endure?

 What she wasn’t expecting was a strange sense of satisfaction. There was a warmth that took root in her, the impression that what she was doing was good and right and helping.

 Ivy decided to calculate the average improvements Lily had made to the crew’s individual well beings later when she could consider all the data she’d observed and listened to. Right now though, she had a story to read.

 Ivy read out the voices of the characters as she heard them in her own head when she’d read the story the first time herself much to Lily’s apparent delight. Encouraged she continued adding the dramatic emphasis drawing thrilled but ever-sleepier responses from Lily until the child fell asleep three chapters from the end.

 Ivy smiled with the contentment of a job well done. She had done it. Lily had come to her wanting help and she’d been able to provide that well enough that the child had gone back to sleep, happy and obviously feeling secure.

Children tended to only sleep on people they trusted. She’d read it in one of the few human child rearing books she’d found.

 The archivist was deeply proud of herself.

 And now Lily was asleep she could take a closer look at the fluffy thing that the little girl was clutching as she listened.

 An emerald or copper oxidised geode of some kind rendered in a fluffy fabric with embroidered eyes.

 Ivy felt another smile slowly bloom across her face as she realised what it was.

 Jonny.

 So that was what he’d been up to.

 She’d caught him trying to sneak out of the library a few times two months, three weeks and five, four and two days ago, only refraining from blowing his head off because of the likelihood if she did it would be a night Lily needed comforting and she did not want to have to deal with the emotional fallout that mess would wrought.

 She’d let him go once he proved he wasn’t trying to smuggle books out with him and upon investigation of her shelves the books he’d been looking at (not quite put back exactly where they belonged but he’d apparently tried) focused minerals and geology, she’d wondered want on earth he’d been up to since seeking knowledge, or reading in general was not his go-to activity.

 This was apparently it.

 Making an accurate depiction of a geode to render in fluff as a comfort toy for an orphaned little girl. Ivy knew Lily was interested in stones, she’d brought back half the lakeshore from their first planet visit. Several of them kept appearing around Aurora with googly or painted on eyes and smiley faces. One of the smaller, lighter, flatter ones had found their way into Brian’s hat band for a while.

 But this? Taking an active interest and trying to make something accordingly? Jonny was apparently full of surprises. It was a side of him Ivy had suspected existed based on her centuries of observation but it was something he guarded fiercely as though having a soft side was some sort of shameful secret. Same went for the rest of the crew. Though, yet again, the rest of the crew also made a point not to be known for their abundance of gentleness or thoughtfulness. Except Brian and TS, (and Marius but 50% of the time he was trying to get a rise of people as well).

 Until recently.

 Until Lily.

 Whose presence apparently was tacit permission to be kinder, not just with her because that was expected, she was a child, an innocent child they’d ended up responsible for and whilst they didn’t really know what they were doing they weren’t actual monsters in this regard, they had at a passing acquaintance with decency sometimes so they were trying to look after her as ‘properly’ as they could.

 And they all did look out for each other too, always undercover of insult or secrecy-no one would ever admit to doing something nice after all but now? Well, their behaviour around Lily was clearly affecting their day-to-day interactions. Murder had been reduced to a minimum especially during ‘daylight’ hours and they’d found other, more constructive ways to harness their energies, non-lethal pranks were happening far more regularly and were being met with amused annoyance rather than murderous rage. Not to mention they’d managed to put the Verdant Hood story cycle together in record time, she was rather looking forward to performing that one. It was amazing how much more practice you could manage when you didn’t have to wait for your lead singer to regrow his bullet-punctured lungs or your string/percussion/piano players to re-grow shot-off fingers.

 Ivy reflected on the status of the crew; there was a contentment that was slowly becoming apparent that had been lacking for several centuries, it was unexpected but pleasant all the same. She was going to enjoy analysing her calculations and collecting more data from the regular interactions she’d been taking part in. Breakfast and Dinner especially as sit down meals weren’t uncommon before Lily but they were now a daily occurrence, Ivy tried to remember to attend at least one meal per day, her crewmates could be intolerably loud a lot of the time but it was pleasant to talk to them sometimes.

 And she enjoyed the growing sense of camaraderie rather than simple tolerance.

 Thinking of.

 She should probably contact Jonny.

 Lily, whilst the weight of her on Ivy’s lap was comforting in a way the archivist had not been expecting it was not fair to allow the child to sleep in this position all night. The books on child growth encouraged lots of sleep but she doubted they meant in laps of immortal space pirates.

 That hadn’t stopped Lily in the slightest but it still wasn’t good for her.

 Ivy typed a message on her communicator, not wanting to risk waking the child.

 ‘Jonny, Lily is in the library with me. Please come and collect.-Ivy’

 There wasn’t much else she could do but wait, idly glancing back through her data files to check her inventory of books suitable for Lily and adding the note that she wanted to read Gulliver’s Travellers next. She wondered if Tim had read the book as a boy since he’d started availing himself of her collection several months ago upon learning she had some of his childhood favourites.

 Twenty-nine minutes later a sleep-drunk, bleary-eyed Jonny came stumbling into the library.

 Ivy had to force herself not to startle.

 She’d never seen him look so thoroughly, relaxedly, rumpled.

 She’d seen him drunk to incoherence and passing out mid-sentence. She’d seen him sleep-deprived, strung-out furious and exhausted to the point he just shut down and dropped where he stood (usually because he’d been refusing to sleep due to the nightmares he definitely didn’t experience) whenever that happened, rare as it was, Brian usually picked him up and carried him off to dump the first mate into bed.

 (Although, knowing Brian it was more like he tucked him in carefully but neither of them would ever admit it)

 She’d seen him nursing the sire of all hangovers across the multiverse, losing the ability to speak any recognised language of which he, like the rest of them, actually knew several.

 But, she realised with a start, she’d never seen him just honestly sleepy, ‘Woken-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-working-on-about-20%-operating-capacity-I-need-to-do-something-but-I-am-on-autopilot’ sleepy.

 He wasn’t dressed for any kind of engagement either. No gun, nor holster, not even a belt. Make up cleaned off his face wearing just a plain dark t-shirt, fabric greyed and worn with age and black drawstring trousers.

 Pyjamas.

 Jonny D’Ville was wearing honest-to-goodness to pyjamas.

 He made his way over to Lily’s corner apparently instinctively, nodded at Ivy with a grateful half-smile, his face, already unguarded softened even more when he took in the sight of Lily, curled up against Ivy, one hand holding on to her waistcoat the other clinging to Gemini who was smushed up against her own chest.

 Ivy found herself not daring to breathe whilst she watched to retrieval take place.

 He scooped up the sleeping child with a practiced ease, Lily immediately settling against him like she lived there, barely even stirring.

 Jonny’s hand lingered on Ivy’s a moment, squeezing it gently, “’anks f’lookin’after her.” before wrapping his arms more securely around Lily, taking his leave back towards his bunk.

 Ivy’s stare followed the two of them long after they’d left her Library.

 Well.

 That. That was one of the most unexpected sights she had witnessed on board.

She’d never witnessed Jonny appear so utterly vulnerable, without his usual brashness, his loud swaggering and even louder gunshots Jonny was- Jonny was young realised Ivy, probably younger than her when he was mechanised. She did some swift calculations and didn’t like her conclusions.

 Well that made an uncomfortable amount of sense. Trying to seem bigger and badder than everyone else was probably a learned trait now she thought about it, forever twenty? That’s quite difficult to make people listen to you off the bat, even if you’ve got centuries or millennia under your many belts.

 That Jonny was actually comfortable enough to appear like that offered two explanations, one he was starting to actually relax enough around people to allow his softer side more public outings and two, he was just so exhausted by all the nightmare duty he’d been pulling along with having to process actual emotions he was simply spent beyond all care or consideration.

 It was probably a mix of both.

 Ivy allowed herself a pleased smile, partially because she was glad the first mate was clearly getting something positive out of this caretaker role he’d accidentally stepped into three and a half months ago and partially because she had excellent blackmail material to use to get first editions from the next twenty planets they visited.

 She sighed, she was enjoying this mellowing of her crewmates interactions, though not enough to be entirely alienating but just enough to take some of the edges off, it was nice knowing that a request for people to please shut the fuck up for five minutes was less likely to earn you a bullet to the head. There was a rare peace that was becoming a little more common and helped draw her out of the library a little more regularly and that was something she felt she could live with.

 The chances of a child being a uniting factor for group cohesion and to reduce the levels of ship-destructive violence would have been at a 0.001% if you’ve asked Ivy four months ago but now? Whilst she absolutely could not have predicted it she was very glad Jonny had been too shocked to react with violence back on Lily’s ship, the archivist found she quite liked having another bibliophile on board, it might be what it would have been like to have had a younger sibling. Ivy paused, considering. That fit. Having a younger person to encourage and help shape, not a parent, certainly not, but possibly another familial bond?

 Quite possibly.

 92% in fact.

[albinohare]

Woman on a mission: what drives Dee Caffari? How the pioneering sailor went from PE teacher to Volvo skipper

For Dee Caffari, skippering a Volvo Ocean Race Team has been the culmination of an extraordinary career (so far!). So why doesn’t she feel like she’s made it yet? Helen Fretter talked to Dee on her round the world adventure to find out.

Leg 4, Melbourne to Hong Kong, Day 12 onboard Turn the Tide on Plastic. A candid moment where I caught Dee Caffari staring out the hatch. What is she thinking? Photo by Brian Carlin/Volvo Ocean Race. 13 January, 2018.

Dee Caffari puts most of us to shame. She turned up in the cliquey world of offshore racing in her mid-twenties without a reputation built on years of Figaro or Mini Transat racing, no childhood spent dinghy sailing, no private backer, no technical advantage. No leg-up at all, in fact. And yet she was the only skipper in this year’s Volvo Ocean Race who has also completed a Vendée Globe. She has achieved so much.

Dee is a big believer that anybody can do the same. That can be a little confronting, leaving those of us who haven’t realised such dreams feeling a bit like a failure. For the pros who spent a lifetime racing off Brittany or the IJsselmeer it must be disconcerting to have someone who did a fast-track Yachtmaster course line up next to you on the skipper’s rostrum.

Perhaps because of that the armchair critics have not always been kind. Some questioned her lack of podium results, but in offshore racing a huge achievement lies in getting to the start – and an even greater one in getting to the finish. And that is what Caffari does – she gets around (the Volvo Ocean Race was her sixth lap of the planet). 

Actually, looking back at her 2008 Vendée Globe what stands out is how she finished just five hours after Brian Thompson (who, with a Jules Verne title, nobody could accuse of not being performance driven).

Leg 8 from Itajai to Newport, day 9 on board Turn the Tide on Plastic. 30 April, 2018. Skipper Dee Caffari.

She has just completed the Volvo Ocean Race skippering Turn the Tide on Plastic. It is the second time she has led a crew around the world, and it is, in many ways, the perfect job for Caffari. It is also not a role many others would have taken on. But this is a woman who set off on her solo round the world record attempt in 2005, against the prevailing winds and currents, having never actually sailed single-handed before. Caffari is not easily daunted.

How did she work her way from being a newbie Yachtmaster to having one of the most complete and accomplished CVs of any offshore sailor?

“I’m stubborn and bloody-minded, and wasn’t going to take no for an answer,” she muses. “It’s about building connections and networks, and taking opportunities as they arise, and I’ve been very fortunate to be in the right place to do that. I’ve also had to be a bit more resilient than most.” 

“She makes smart decisions, and she’s prepared to put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into making it happen,” observes Brian Thompson, who also raced with Caffari in the 2009 Transat Jacques Vabre, and navigated on Turn the Tide on Plastic. “She’s not afraid to have a big goal and work really hard to get to it.”

She may have come into the sport late, but her first job gave her a rich seam of connections. Starting out at Mike Golding Ocean Racing as a nipper on his corporate sailing programme, she joined a team that included Graham ‘Gringo’ Tourell, who was boat captain for Dongfeng, Jonny Malbon, as well as Golding himself. For a rookie it was the perfect teaching ground.

Dee (Denise) Caffari aged 6 in 1979 aboard her father’s motor yacht the Jolly Rotter en route to Holland.

Allie Smith, who recruited Caffari straight from her UKSA Yachtmaster course, recalls: “Every step of the way she learnt from the best. So she learnt how to sail a Challenge 67 yacht from Mike [Golding]. And then when she got her Open 60, who did she turn to to tune the boat up and learn from? Mike again.”

Dee’s approach was to learn, and work, and then learn some more. “Dee would always ask questions,” says Smith. “‘Why are you doing that?’, ‘Why are you doing it that way?’”

Golding recalls: “When she was made skipper of the 67 she literally spent three days just parking the boat in Ocean Village, going into all the horrible difficult spaces.”

“Whenever she was given a task, with each successive job, she was thrown straight into it in the deep end. And each time she rose to the challenge and did it really well.”

But going straight from the classroom to a top-level campaign meant she had to hold her own.

“I used to be able to get her into tears pretty easily,” recalls Golding. “I think she was quite highly strung then. Not intentionally, but neither was I going to let things go by just because she was a girl.”

Emotions run high

When Caffari later announced she was going to skipper a team in the Global Challenge (the pay-to-sail, westbound round the world race sailed by crews of 18 amateur sailors with a professional skipper), Golding was concerned that Caffari was too sensitive. “My fear was that Challenge crew can wither you! They are very intelligent people who’ve made money and time to do the race, they’re used to being the boss, and they can cut you to ribbons.

“So I said: I fear you’re going to have to harden up. And she obviously did, because she had to.”

Briefing her Global Challenge team

When she skippered Imagine it. Done in the 2004 Global Challenge Caffari not only survived some challenging crew politics, but gained respect for how she handled a potentially life-threatening situation on board when one of her crew developed severe internal injuries. 

Golding said he noticed a huge change in her on her return. “I think that emotional side had gone for her, she had a confidence that wasn’t there prior to the Challenge.”

But the ebullient Caffari we are used to wasn’t always so positive. After the Challenge, she rolled straight into a solo west-about round the world record, an experience she describes as ‘an emotional rollercoaster’. So, in preparation for the Vendée Globe two years later she worked with a sports psychologist.

“That was probably the biggest growth in my sailing I ever had, learning how to manage me,” she says.

“I used to easily say what I didn’t want to happen: I didn’t want to let people down, I didn’t want to come last. But I would struggle to say what I did want to happen. 

“I learnt that I had to practice positive language, and completely turn that on its head.

“Even now, my default setting when I’m stressed is I can feel myself going back to the negative. I have to have a word with myself and change my language again. And as a result I’m much more positive.” 

Timing is everything

That positivity has been thoroughly tested in the Volvo Ocean Race. The Turn the Tide on Plastic team was a late entry put together by Volvo, the UN Clean Seas campaign and Mirpuri Foundation. It has been stunningly timely – as the race ramped up the plastic oceans issue became a hot topic globally, giving Caffari the kind of platform that commercially backed teams could only dream of. 

It was also timely for Caffari, who told me in Alicante how before Tide came her way she had been throwing herself – unsuccessfully – at other teams trying to get a trial for this edition of the race. 

The opportunity to skipper a campaign was huge, but daunting. The project came with unique challenges – stipulations that six crew should be under-30, at least one Portuguese. The budget and timeframe meant there was little warm up, sailors needed to be fit and ready to go, but many of the youngsters had almost zero ocean racing experience before they set off. 

Performance analysis was rudimentary compared to some teams. In Cape Town we chatted about how teams had been analysing the onboard footage during the Atlantic leg and she was intrigued that some had allocated resources purely to that. “We’re still going “’Oh, that’s a nice picture!’ We are just so not on that level,” she joked. 

So it has been a surprise to many just how close Turn the Tide has run some of their competitors. For much of the first Lisbon to Alicante leg they were neck and neck with Brunel – so when Brunel complained of rudder issues Turn the Tide watch captain Liz Wardley forthrightly told me she felt it was patronising, and suggested that Tide’s performance out of the blocks had rattled some of the Volvo stalwarts.

The team continued improving: on the final approach into Auckland Turn the Tide on Plastic was in front. They clung to the top three until the final 20 miles, when Mapfre and Dongfeng relentlessly hunted them down the North Island’s coast. Turn the Tide eventually finished 5th and even Dee seemed lost for words. 

On the northward Atlantic leg Turn the Tide sailed near-faultlessly, in the front half of the pack for the entire leg and enjoying several days in pole position. Two days away from the finish they again seemed set for a podium finish, but it would be a three-way fight. 

An onboard video shows Caffari explaining the situation on deck; she’s met with nervous silence. “Come on, yes Dee!” she rallies them. Clearly the crew wanted to believe the podium is still in grasp, but had been denied it too many times. They were denied it again, as the light winds and fog of Newport rolled Turn the Tide back to sixth.

She commented in a post-leg interview. “Yet again I’m stood here saying for the fourth leg running, ‘They didn’t get the result they deserve’. So I’m kind of stuck as a skipper on how to pick them up and get going for the next leg, but that’s what I’ve got to do.”

Rallying the troops is something Caffari is good at, and she’s often praised for her people management skills – even if at the beginning of the race she wasn’t entirely confident in her, abilities. “I [do enjoy it] although I think I’m not very good at it,” she told me before the start in Alicante. “I get stressed by it. I don’t want to get it wrong.”

She talks about her crew with more of a sense of responsibility than the other Volvo skippers; part mother hen, part enthusiastic school sports coach. Her management style is based on nurturing strengths.

“I’m not very much a dictator,” she observes. “I don’t tell them all what to do. I go OK, this area is yours. Are you OK? Do you need any help?” 

Leg 10 from Cardiff to Gothenburg.

So good at empowering her team is Caffari, that she revealed in Cape Town she felt almost redundant at times. “I kind of feel like I’m second to [the navigator] and then I go on deck and Martin [Strømberg] is running his watch and Liz is running her watch and I don’t really fit in there, so you end up being quite isolated. And as a leader you generally are. It’s lonely at the top.”

Thompson explained they later restructured so Caffari also ran a watch, a move Caffari said she hoped “might restore my confidence a bit!”

Despite the billboards plastered around Volvo Race villages with her name and face on, Caffari is instinctively modest. She admits that for much of her racing career she compared herself to sailors with entirely different backgrounds. “Even now, when you’re in an environment where you have Olympians or America’s Cup sailors, you’re like ‘Oh, what have I done?’ And actually, there’s a bit of a reality check, that in fact I’ve done quite a lot.”

But as the race was drawing towards a close, Caffari was taking stock. “I think if I was honest with this campaign, there isn’t another skipper that could do what I’ve done with the team I’ve had and the timescale and budget I’ve got. 

“But I want to show how close the racing’s been with a result as well. I do believe what we’re doing is right, but my concern is if you look at the scoreboard we look no different to Team SCA, yet how we’re racing and how this campaign is going is so much better.

“The team deserve it, and I think we’re probably the one team where every other team would be happy if we got that result.” 

She’s right – after the Auckland and Newport finishes, rival skippers like Charles Caudrelier commented on how cruel the result had been for Turn the Tide. It says a lot about the respect and goodwill Dee and her team have earned. With three legs to go, Caffari remained as determined as ever.

“I don’t want the sympathy vote, I want to justify it on the water.”

Postscript: After this article was published in the July issue of Yachting World magazine, Turn the Tide on Plastic finished Legs 10 and 11 of the Volvo Ocean Race in 5th place, their best results of the race. This left the team tied in 6th place overall with Team Sun Hung Kai Scallywag.

In order to break the tie, Caffari’s team had to beat Scallywag in the in-port series, which meant not only finishing ahead of the Hong Kong team in the final in-port race in The Hague, but finishing with at least one boat in between them to give them a two point advantage. In the final in-port race Turn the Tide on Plastic were 4th, ahead of MAPFRE and Vestas 11th Hour Racing, with Scallywag in 7th. This gave Caffari and team 6th overall in the in-port series and overall Volvo Ocean Race.

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