Moonlight Waves

I wish

The first thing I notice when I join Roman and Ian at the helm in the morning, is how the visibility has increased. The fog seems to have lifted and the clouds have even grown a little whiter and fluffier.
"There she is." Ian announces and I draw my gaze from the sky to the sea in front us where the Hangman sits anchored and waiting for us.
"I'll get the captain." I say and make my way down the stairs to the captain's cabin.
I rap my fist against the door and Captain Dax calls for me to enter.
"We're coming upon the Hangman, Captain." I tell him, peeking my head around the door.
His head snaps up from the charts he'd been reading over and he stands up to follow me out. We make our way back up to the helm and Captain Dax takes his place next to Ian, studying the Hangman—it's starboard side angled towards us.
I look back in the direction we've come from only to see the Widower still following us at a steady pace with the Night's Scream a few yards behind it.
It's a terrible feeling— this anticipation. Watching your enemy slowly but surely come upon you. The wind that pushes you onward the same strong wind that brings them nearer.
I feel myself start to become nauseous and this sinking feeling settles in my stomach. As if a boulder is pushed over a ledge only to sink into the depths of my stomach and settle there, turning my stomach into knots.
Without breathing a word to him, Roman immediately can sense what I'm feeling and he slips a comforting arm around my waist. I tilt my head to meet his concerned gaze and he silently asks if I'm all right. This isn't the time or place to be spilling my worries or fears to him, so I breathe in a shuddering breath and nod my head. He doesn't look convinced and holds my gaze for a second longer and searches my eyes for something more, but seems to decide to let it go for now. Both of us knowing that our fears need to be pushed to the side for today, this is the time to be brave. Any apprehension I have about what will take place today, I bury it deep down. We're fighting for the greater good now, aren't we? Fighting for our home? Fighting to protect the defenseless families of our island?
  It's hard for me to grasp the reality of it all. The stakes seemed to rise too quickly for it all to be truly real. We're no longer just fighting for Roman, but our homes.
  And I really wish we weren't.
  I wish we could call in the Royal Navy and sail home on steady winds.
I wish I could go back home and hug my sister tight and watch her face light up as I tell her about these last months.
I wish I could hear my father's teasing comments and my mother's humming as she paints random things around the house.
I wish I could ride out to the Seaman's Cottage and the only thing I have to worry about is getting those wretched flowers to grow.
I wish I could cuddle up into Roman's arms and not have to let go of him ever again.
I wish this whole business was over.
But wishing doesn't change anything. Whether you wish upon an eyelash or a shooting star they'll both ignore your pleas and leave you to figure things out on your own. Wishing upon things is what my childhood self would've done, and as much as I hate it: she's gone.
"Pull her around so our sterns are aligned." Captain Dax orders, bringing my attention back to him.
"Captain?" Ian asks, not sure what he means.
"We'll create a wall with our ships." Captain Dax explains, "The Hangman's starboard canons facing out and our port side canons facing out. We'll move our sterns together."
Ian seems to understand and responds with an "Aye, Captain" before turning the large wheel. Captain Dax walks down to the deck and starts giving orders to the other sailors.
"You better grab your trident." Roman says.
"And you better grab your rapier." I answer, earning me that endearing and adorable sly grin of his. But he drops his smile a second later and grabs both of my hands in his.
I'm struck by how coarse and firm his hands are compared to mine. Mine that have never endured months of non-moisturizing and are just now growing a little crackly. But his are the hands of a boy who's worked every day of his life to get what he wanted. My hands seem to disappear in the size of his.
"You're going to be all right." He whispers to me. Ian still stands at the helm and he tries to act like he's can't hear us, but I know he can. "We all are."
I want to say more, but can't find the words. I fish around my brain, swimming among the reefs and looking for just the right fish, but it escapes me.
"I know." is all I can say, but even I can hear the doubt in my voice.
"We'll have all the time in the world for you tell me whatever you want to tell me when this is over." Roman says. Roman who knows me so well, knowing that I can't find the right thing to say. I just wish that he could know what it is I'm feeling without me having to explain it to him. Or me having to explain it myself.
But there I go again: making wishes that will never be granted.