"Kid!" a rough hand on his shoulder stirred the young man. "Kid! You okay!?" Confused hazel eyes opened to see a massive mound of muscle and dirty blonde facial hair towering over him. "Holy hell you're alive! MEDIC!" the man roared loudly in an American accent that sounded southern to the young man slowly slipping back into unconsciousness.

#####

"Kiddo!" the tall man smiles broadly as the eyes open slowly. "He lives! Ha ha!"

"Where... am I?" his voice was rough, rougher than sandpaper on an open wound. A glass of water was shoved into his hands and he guzzled it down quickly, feeling a tiny trickle drip from his lip.

"You're in the middle of the ocean boy!" the man laughed lightly. "You're on a DOATEC oil rig. I'm Bass Armstrong, what's your name?"

"I... I don't know," he admits sadly.

"Well the doc said you got a nasty bump there, probably knocked your brain around a bit."

"Wait," the young man in the hospital bed pointed at him, "the Bass Armstrong? The pro wrestler?"

"That's me!" Bass beamed proudly and the kid grinned. "Anything on you?"

"There's the castaway," the rig captain stepped into the medbay. "Got a name son?"

"I don't remember," the youth hated the touch of fear in his voice.

"Well," the captain shrugged, "it'll come back with time... It's only thanks to Mr. Armstrong here that we found you floating in the ocean. Do you know anything?"

"I'm seventeen," he responded quickly as that fact popped into his brain.

"Well then," the captain beamed, "I can offer you a job on the rig til we send people to shore for their break... Interested?"

"Hell yeah," the young man nodded emphatically. "It's the least I can do after you saved my life."

"Well you need a name son," the captain tapped his chin thoughtfully and the youth looked around.

"Rig," he said after a moment, "call me Rig."

"Alright," the captain held out a hand, "welcome aboard Rig."

#####

Years passed for Rig and the youth turned into a hardworking man tanned and scarred from a hard job he loved. No one ever came looking for him, and he never really tried to find out more about his former life. As the years passed and Rig turned twenty-six, he found himself working alongside his original savior Bass. They were close friends, despite Bass' obvious quick temper that Rig was always more than happy to agitate. Together they toiled under the unforgiving sun amidst the blue ocean, Rig secretly holding Bass to an almost fatherly level. Their days were usually predictable, as were their nights when they'd trek to Taylor's Bar. Together they'd sit, cold mugs cooling calloused hands as they gave each other an ungodly amount of shit.

"How's Tina?" Rig asked and Bass shot him a threatening look.

"My baby girl is fine," Bass grumbled and Rig grinned. Bringing up the american's hot daughter always set him off. "Off on another one of her crazy stunts... You remember anything more?" Rig took a long swig of his beer before shaking his head. He had over the years remembered a few things, half-formed memories that showed him something he would rather not be. His grip tightened on his mug handle, tanned knuckles going white. "Ah well that's life. You're up for leave with me in a few days... You got plans?"

"Just the usual bumming," Rig grinned as he motioned for another beer. "You?"

"Tina is convinced that now she must be a rockstar so..." he sighed the words heavily and Rig grinned, knowing he could pick a fight.

"I can see that," he said and quickly dodged a fist aimed for his face. "What the hell Bass?" he rolled his shoulders as he stood up from his stool.

"What'd you mean by that huh?!" the man lumbered to his feet, bringing his hands up as he crouched in his customary wrestling stance.

"What a pain," Rig muttered as he fell into his Taekwondo ready stance. Bass charged like a bull, catching Rig around the waist and slamming him into the wall. Rig managed and undignified grunt as his head slammed into a poster advertising some upcoming tournament.

"No one talks about my baby!" Bass roared as he stepped back. Rig moved from the wall, shaking off the hit.

"Hey at least all I do is talk," Rig taunted. "I could be doing more," he said as he moved his hand in a jerking off motion. Bass roared and Rig laughed as he dodged the tackle. He struck out with a foot to Bass' lower back. The former wrestler went sprawling across the ground and Rig smiled. "Don't spoil all my fun," he said as he held out a hand. Bass glared at it before taking the offered hand, impressed as always to feel the younger man hauling him to his feet. "Now let's finish our drinks eh?" Bass grunted in agreement and Rig put an arm around his shoulders as they moved back to their stools.

######

On dry land for the first time in months, Rig smiled as he watched Bass run up to Tina and wrap her in a big bear hug. "Oh Daddy I missed you!" She kissed his cheek, her eyes finding Rig moving past them. "Hiya Rig!"

"Heya Tina," he said with a slight nod, not wanting Bass to think there was something there that wasn't. Rig respected Bass far too much to try, and besides that Tina was just too much trouble for him. He forced his feet to keep going, his eyes to stay on the walk ahead, not to linger on the close family moment he knew he'd never had with his father, whoever that was.

He left the docks, finding himself in a busy outdoor market. Rig walked along, the breeze feeling good against his tattooed chest. He turned heads as he walked but whether it was the odd tattoos coupled with the dark grey sleeveless hoodie over a bare torso or his easygoing grin that always brought a blush to women's faces, he didn't bother to stop and ask. He walked with the flow of the crowd, no destination in mind, and paused at the sight of a petite blonde in a maid dress, standing on her booted toes trying to reach a dress on a rack far too tall for her. He walked over and snagged the dress, handing it to her. She whirled to face him, blue eyes running over him greedily. "That better?" Rig asked and she pursed her light pink lips. "What?"

"Most guys don't talk to me," she said as she started looking the dress over, a critical eye examining the stitches.

"Why the hell not?" Rig asked and she shrugged.

"I get 'you look twelve' a lot," she grumbled and Rig let his eyes roam over her. Her body was petite, her chest not ample, but he saw the way she carries herself, she was no child.

"I'm guessing eighteen," Rig said and she looked up at him with suspicious narrowed eyes. "What's with that look?"

"How'd you know?" she asked and he grinned.

"It's a gift," he said with a casual shrug.

"Marie Rose!" A French accent made the girl tense.

"Uh oh that's Lady Helena..." Rig turned to see a beautiful blonde in a business suit walking towards them, glaring at him.

"I don't think the lady approves of me," he said with a wink at the now named Marie Rose.

"She doesn't approve of much," the maid said grumpily and Rig nudged her ribs lightly.

"See you around Marie Rose," he bowed his head and moved on, leaving both the blondes to watch his retreating form. "So much for that," he thought out loud as he walked, eyes already finding what could possibly be a problem following a copper-haired woman down an alley.