Rachel stood in front of the tiny mirror in the tiny bathroom attached to her hospital room. It had been three days since she had regained consciousness, but the doctors had still not released her, which frustrated her. She wanted to get out. Needed to get out. Needed to get back to work. Needed to do… something.

The problem was, she wasn't sure what something was. The President had found other people to send to investigate the outbreaks in Toledo, Nebraska, and elsewhere, claiming she wasn't needed now that the cure was finalized, and telling her she needed to rest.

Rachel couldn't remember the last time she had truly rested before this. She had been "resting" for the past three days, and already she was restless. She sighed a heavy, frustrated sigh and glared at her reflection. Why couldn't she just relax? Why hadn't finding the cure seemed like the ultimate victory to her? Why did she still feel the need to move on, to find something else?

For as long as she could remember, Rachel had been dedicated to her work. There had always been a new project to work on, a new discovery to be made, a new article to publish, but it never seemed like enough. No matter how hard she worked, she always felt the need to do more.

But now, the world was different. There were no research labs to work in. No journals to publish articles in. No one to do research with.

Without science, Rachel wasn't sure what she was. Without her work, she felt like she was nothing. She had found satisfaction in her work, but now she no longer had that, and she had no idea what to do. Would she ever find something that satisfied her?

It was then, when Rachel was on the verge of losing it, that there was a knock on her door. Rachel pounded the sink slightly in frustration, blinking back tears. Whoever it was would probably come in and marvel at how much she had recovered and tell her she needed to rest. Rachel really wasn't in the mood for any of that.

The knock sounded again, so with a sigh and one last glare into the mirror Rachel reluctantly went and opened the door.

"Hello doctor," was all Tom Chandler said in greeting.

"Captain," Rachel replied, opening the door wider. She refused to meet his eyes; she was sure he would see the anger and frustration hidden behind her careful expression. She never could hide that from him.

For a moment, Rachel was reminded of the minute she had woken up in the hospital bed, three days before. She had no idea how long she had been out, and the first thing she saw was the Captain asleep in a chair next to her bed. She hadn't fully understood why he had been there, but his simple presence there had comforted her in a way she wouldn't let herself wonder about too much.

Tom stepped into her small room, and Rachel sat on the end of her bed to make room for the both of them. He closed the door and leaned back against it, his arms crossed over his chest. "How you holding up?" He asked.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, still not meeting his eyes. She could feel him watching her, and she knew that if she looked at him she would see disbelief in his gaze. He always knew when she wasn't alright.

Tom just nodded his head, working his jaw, and let the silence linger between them. He knew she wasn't fine, but he also knew if he pushed her she'd argue, and end up hiding whatever the problem was behind a façade of stubbornness. That would get them nowhere.

After a few moments of watching her, Tom asked, "Any news from the doctors?"

Rachel shrugged, and then tried to hide a wince as it hurt her shoulder. "They said the wound is healing nicely, and I should be out in a few days, at the most," she said with a sigh. "I'm really fine though. I don't need medical care anymore. My shoulder is fine and I can take care of myself." Rachel realized she had said more than she meant to, and closed her mouth definitively.

Tom gave her a knowing half-smile, which Rachel didn't see because she was fidgeting with the edge of the blanket on the bed, trying to keep herself distracted and not looking at him. "Of course you can," he said softly. He watched her fidget for a moment more, and then decided it was time for the truth. "Rachel," he said, his voice shifting to a more commanding tone, but one still softer than he would use with his crew.

The combination of his use of her first name and the soft but firm tone of his voice made Rachel look up at him for the first time, a frown covering the worried look on her face. She didn't say anything, but rather focused on trying to control her face so she didn't give anything away.

Tom met her eyes and stared at her for a couple of seconds. He could tell she was upset about something, he just wasn't sure what. Tom uncrossed his arms and stood up from the door. He went and sat next to Rachel on the edge of the bed. After a moment of silence during which Rachel made a point of studying her hands, he asked, "What's really bothering you?"

Rachel sighed again, and her lip quivered before she regained control of it and forced it back into a measured frown. "It's really nothing, Captain," she whispered, her voice slightly unsteady.

Tom looked away from her and stared at the door across from them. After a moment, he looked back and said, "It's Tom."

Rachel risked a glance at him, her frown turning into a look of slight confusion, but she said nothing.

"You can call me Tom," he said. "We're not on the ship anymore," he added, as if that was supposed to clarify everything.

Rachel didn't think that clarified everything. She'd only called him Tom once before, and it was not a moment she looked back on with happiness. In fact, it was a moment they would both rather forget. She wasn't sure if calling him Tom would change anything between them or not. It felt like it would. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that change, but she knew part of her wanted it.

Still, when she tried to say his name, it felt strange to her, so she brushed it off. "Really," she said, "It's nothing."

Tom noticed how Rachel's face had gone blank, no longer a frown, but not revealing anything, either. He noticed that she didn't call him Tom, but that was okay with him. She hadn't called him Captain either. It felt like a step in the right direction. He figured he needed to give her some time.

Hell, he needed time himself.

He had no idea what he was feeling at that moment. All he knew was that Rachel was most definitely not fine, and he wanted to make her feel better. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted her to be okay. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for everything that had happened between them, and he wanted to sit outside and drink her awful tea and watch the stars with her.

He just didn't know how to tell her any of that.

For now, he would settle for trying to make her smile, even if he couldn't find out exactly what was bothering her. He knew her well enough by now that he knew to wait, and when she was ready to seek help, she would. Until then, it was better to just be there for her while she worked out her problems on her own.

They sat in silence for a while, until Rachel couldn't take it anymore. She had returned to studying her hands when she whispered, "I just don't know what to do."

Tom watched her, the pained expression on her face making his heart hurt. He knew if he asked anything, she'd close up again, so he just waited for her to continue.

"My whole life, I've always been running," Rachel said, and Tom couldn't tell if she was talking to him or herself. He figured it didn't really matter, all that mattered was that she let it out. "I was always chasing something," Rachel continued, on the verge of tears that she was determined not to let fall. "Chasing the next big discovery, the next big breakthrough…" She trailed off, shaking her head. After a pause, she said, "but now, I have nothing. Nothing to chase. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. I'm not…" she trailed off again, her breath coming in shorter gasps as she tried not to cry.

Tom whispered, "not what?"

Rachel continued staring down, and whispered in sad embarrassment, "not needed."

Tom opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again as he looked at her. She had turned her head away from him, and was clearly trying her best not to break down. His heart went out to her. There were so many things he wanted to say to her in that moment, and for a minute he searched in vain for a way to tell her what he wanted without scaring her away.

"Rachel," he whispered, taking one of her hands in his. She turned back to him, her eyes red and wide, confused and frustrated. She looked so alone, and Tom wished he could make her see how much he needed he her. He wanted her to see that she was needed, and she didn't have to be alone. All he said was, "I need you."

Rachel stared into his eyes for a moment, as if she hadn't quite heard what he said. He could see the moment she comprehended his words, and then the moment she finally let her walls down and the tears that had been welling up began to fall. He wrapped her in a hug, and she leaned against his chest and finally released her careful hold on her emotions.

They sat there for a long time, Tom rocking her as she cried, until Rachel's tears turned into sniffles and Tom stroked her head. "It's okay to slow down, you know," he whispered. "You don't have to run. You can just… be."

Rachel took a deep breath, not pulling away. She didn't know what to say, or what to think, or what to feel. She just wanted to sit there, Tom's arms around her, until she forgot all her problems and the outside world ceased to exist.

Without moving, she whispered, "Thank you." Tom hugged her tighter, determined to sit there with her as long as necessary, vowing not to leave the room until he got her to smile.