Episode 16: Where the Past Waits
May 21, 2012 – 7:12 AM
3^rd Day of the Cruise aboard MV Maverisk’s Rose
Observation Deck – Port Side

The sea was still dark, a quiet slate of shifting glass. The kind of quiet that hides teeth.

A man stood in the shadows near the deck’s forward bulkhead, his back against the steel, his face hidden under the brim of a navy cap. The early air clung damp against his skin, carrying the scent of diesel and salt.

From where he stood, he could see her. Rose Villamor. Laughing softly with one of the junior stewards as they set the morning coffee service near the captain’s table. Her hair caught the faint pre-dawn glow, a slow-fire halo in the half-light.

He spoke, but only to himself.
Low.
Measured.
Every word pressed through clenched teeth.

“She doesn’t belong to them. Not to this ship. Not to her father. Not to any of them…”
A pause. The sound of his knuckles tightening inside his pocket.
“She’ll see. She’ll understand when everything else is stripped away. When I’m all that’s left.”

He shifted his weight, blending deeper into the bulkhead’s shadow as a passing officer walked by. The man’s eyes never left Rose, calculating the way a hunter studies the rhythm of a prey animal’s breath.

“She keeps smiling,” he whispered. “She won’t smile like that much longer. Not when she knows she was meant for me.”

Somewhere below deck, a door clanged open. Footsteps echoed on the companionway ladder. The man stepped back, the shadows swallowing him whole.

********

8:17 AM
MV Maverisk’s Rose – Main Dining Hall

Marisse volunteered for the Captain’s Breakfast because he knew she’d be there.

Still, the knowledge was nothing compared to the sight. Balancing the silver tray, his hands shook so violently the china rattled like distant thunder. He gritted his teeth, forcing the tremor still.

And then he saw her.

Rose Villamor.
Alive. Well. Younger than the last time he’d held her, so young it hurt to look at her. She was seated beside her father, sunlight spilling across her like a spotlight, the faint scent of her perfume drifting over the tables in teasing fragments.

His chest tightened until he thought his ribs might crack. He had watched her chest go still. He had pressed trembling fingers to a pulse that wasn’t there. And now, God have mercy, she was here… smiling faintly at something her father said, as if fate had not yet set its cruel hand upon her.

His knees weakened. The tray dipped dangerously.

A firm hand caught it…the head waiter, eyes sharp. “Cold station. Now. I’ll take this.”

Marisse nodded mutely, retreating to the far wall, where the buffet’s cold spread gleamed under soft morning light. Fresh fruit, pastries, chilled juices, ordinary things in an ordinary morning. Except nothing about this morning was ordinary.

From his post, he could see her between the silver chafing dishes and crystal pitchers. The sound of clinking cutlery became background noise to the pounding in his chest.

Thank You, he prayed silently. Thank You for letting me see her again. Just… help me this time. Help me make it right.

He tried to still the shaking in his hands by focusing on arranging melon slices and grapes, but his eyes betrayed him, drawn back to her again and again.

Then, without warning, she stood.

Rose walked toward him, calm, purposeful, her eyes sweeping the buffet like any guest searching for fresh fruit. But her voice, when it reached him, was sharp enough to cut.

“How did you find the nerve to show your face to me?” she hissed, barely moving her lips.

Marisse’s gaze flicked around the room. The nearest guest was three tables away, deep in conversation. The waitstaff were busy at the coffee station. They were safe to talk, for now.

“You’re in danger,” he murmured. “We need to meet so I can explain everything.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why should I---”

“Four o’clock,” he pressed, urgency threading through his voice. “Lifeboat area, promenade deck.”

She studied him for a beat too long. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. “Four o’clock. And you better make it worth my time.”

She turned, gliding back to her table without another word.

Marisse forced himself to breathe, to go through the motions of service until they finished; relieved to hear what the head waiter has to say when he leaned in. “You’ve been granted early shore leave. Go.”

*******

Davao City

Coastguard Outpost, Bayfront

MARISSE

The scent of brine and fuel hung thick in the air as Marisse stepped off the pier and approached the low whitewashed building. Inside, the room hummed with quiet authority as radios crackled by the reception desk where rows of paperwork were stacked in neat piles.

There he was.

Ezequiel Morales. Younger by a decade, but just as sharp, clean-cut in his pressed Coastguard uniform. He looked up as Marisse approached, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Marisse spoke the phrase his future head of security had once told him, the one Zeke said only a Marine batchmate would understand.

Ezequiel’s brows knit. “How the hell do you know that?”

Marisse didn’t answer the question. “The man who gave it to me trusts me with his life, and said you are the only one who can help me to save the life of the woman I love.”

Ezequiel leaned back in his chair, measuring him. “Talk.”

So Marisse told Ezequiel/Zeke all the details he knew of Rose’s future assailant, exactly as her father had shown him from the now not so distant future. Dates. Names. Locations. The kind of specifics that no stranger should know, and what Marisse knew would hold water for Ezequiel for him to escalate it as a security threat onboard the MV Maverick Rose.

By the end, Ezequiel’s face was carved from stone. He swiveled to the lieutenant’s office door, rapped once, and stepped inside.

Minutes later, he emerged. “You’ve got my authorization,” the lieutenant said, voice clipped. “Morales, investigate this quietly. Report back any solid leads. If this checks out, we’ll send backup.”

Ezequiel turned back to Marisse, his jaw set. “If you’re lying, you’re going to regret it. If you’re telling the truth… we might just save her.”

*******

2:47 PM
MV Maverisk’s Rose – Crew Quarters

The ferry’s engines drummed a steady rhythm beneath Marisse’s feet as he sat in one of the rows of table in the crew mess, pretending to have coffee. The late-afternoon light bleeding gold through the porthole. His shore leave had yielded more than he expected. Finding the young Zeke who is now officially investigating Mairsse’s report of a legitimate threat was on alert, the Coastguard ready to act if he found proof. But proof alone wouldn’t save her.

He thumbed the Saint Michael medallion at his chest. Two hours until the meeting. Two hours to hold himself together.

*******

Elsewhere – Promenade Deck

The man in the navy cap leaned on the railing, staring at the pale churn of the wake trailing behind the ship. He had been watching the movements all day — Rose’s breakfast with her father, her stroll on the upper deck, the way she disappeared into her cabin around noon.

At 4 PM, she would be here again. She always came to the promenade at that hour, or so he told himself. And when she did, she wouldn’t be walking away.

“She’ll thank me,” he murmured. “Someday.”

He glanced toward the lifeboat station. The perfect cover, hidden from the busier walkways. His hand rested on the knife inside his jacket pocket, more a reassurance than a threat. For now.

*******

3:56 PM

Lifeboat Area, Promenade Deck

Marisse arrived first. The sea breeze pressed against his shirt, carrying the tang of salt and the muffled voices from somewhere beyond the bulkhead. He scanned the length of the deck…no Rose yet.

He positioned himself so he could see both approaches without being easily seen. Every shadow looked longer in the sinking light. His pulse was steady, but his eyes kept moving making sure he sees her the moment she arrives.

Footsteps.

She emerged from the starboard side, wearing a pale sundress that caught the light, her hair swept back from her face. But her expression was wary, guarded.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” she said, stopping a few paces away.

Marisse stepped forward but then froze.

Over her shoulder, at the far end of the deck, the man in the navy cap had stopped walking. Just watching.

Marisse swallowed, his throat dry. “Rose, I---”

“No.” Her voice was sharp, cutting into him before he could continue. “Don’t start with apologies. You had your chance yesterday. You could’ve chosen to stand with me. Instead, you chose to hide. You chose yourself. And now you call me here to what? Pretend?”

Her words struck like blows. He stiffened, trying not to let the tremor show in his hands.

“I didn’t hide,” he said, though his voice broke slightly at the edge. “I was trying to protect you, I”

“Protect me?” She laughed bitterly, though the sound wavered. “I will not be fooled by you again, Marisse. Not anymore. I only came here to tell you to stop thinking that you can still talk to me like before. I’m done with whatever this is.”

She turned as if to leave, but desperation pushed past his restraint.

“You said…” His voice cracked, raw, as he called after her. “…you said you would’ve chosen me, Rose. If I’d only asked you… to choose.”

She froze. Her breath caught audibly in the hush of the sea wind. Slowly, she turned back, eyes wide, shaken.

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

*******