Love me, love me, love me, say you do
Let me fly away with you
For my love is like the wind, and wild is the wind
- David Bowie

It wasn't that Doctor Rachel Scott found him unpleasant to be around. Quite the contrary, she found that their times together had become so much more than simply pleasant. In fact, in recent months, her times with him filled her with unspoken joy and feelings of deep connection. In other words, it was a nice way of saying that she was falling in love with her protector and pain in the ass, rules-driven Captain Thomas Chandler of the Nathan James.

And so, she was currently taking the most logical course available. It wasn't all that scientific, but it was the best way she knew to keep her burgeoning feelings to herself. She was avoiding him. While on the surface that might seem illogical, it most assuredly wasn't in her opinion.

When she was around him, all she could think about was kissing him. And, not one of those chaste, friendly yet distant kisses between friends, but one of the ones that were filled with emotion, a passionate, stick your tongue down his throat and tickle his tonsils kisses that left both parties breathless and ready for more. She couldn't afford to act on her thoughts and feelings, she knew, but was also getting harder and harder for her to hide.

Thoughts crept in to her orderly, disciplined mind, disrupting her scientist-bearing. She was supposed to be working to save humanity; a model of productivity and peak performance. Yet, here she sat crushing on - as Beatrice, her teenage helper called it - crushing on a man who had moved heaven and earth to keep her safe and happy as she worked to find the cure. He had never once done anything to let her think he was anything but a friend, yet still her heart went to her happy place whenever he showed up. And in that place, she found him waiting: tall, muscular and beautiful. In that place, she was free to love him and wonder if there ever would be something more.

She sighed pushing wayward brown strands of her hair off her face and back over her ear. She was tired, almost punchy in some respects. From that exhaustion came another fantasy, and while it made her smile and her mind relax a bit, it was counter productive. Recently, he seemed to be moving closer to her, at least she hoped her mind hadn't just finally crapped out completely. If she was misreading his signals, then she was surely damned to a life of fantasy with no realistic hope of it ever being realized.

Her computer bleeped interrupting her thoughts, needing attention. She needed attention – his attention. Stop that! She closed the lid of her laptop, mentally willing herself to close the lid on her fantasies. It didn't work; the computer went to sleep but not her imagination.

You know, you're not falling in love with him, the wilder side of her mind put for the hundredth time, you have already gone head over heels, girl.

He's in mourning! Her logical half argued in return. I can't fall in love with him.

Why not? There's no harm in loving from afar. Sometimes her mind could be a royal pain, and she had to admit that she had a hard time stamping down on her feelings at times. However, as long as they weren't trapped together in an elevator, she felt fairly certain her feelings wouldn't trip her up. Although, she doubted that she could hold them back tonight, because her feelings were very close to the surface and jangling about in her mind like too many ghosts with loud, annoying chains moaning in the attic.

"How on earth did you fall for a Navy man," she muttered to her empty lab. "Is it loneliness or providence?" She shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts.

"It's complete bollux and not scientific at all, Rachel," she admonished herself. Well, love doesn't make sense all the time. That was her mother talking to her.

Rachel had asked her once why she loved Daddy. They seemed so ill suited to each other, and by the ripe old age of nine, she could already discern their differences. Her mom's answer had seemed inadequate to the bright, inquisitive and rebellious Rachel, but she took the answer and didn't pursue it, primarily because she didn't understand what her mother meant. Her mother had gotten sick shortly thereafter, and it never came up again. And now, years later, Rachel finally got that answer, and her mother had been right. Boy, had she been right.

She took off her lab coat hanging it deliberately on its hook, gathering her books, some loose notes to go through and her notebook. She had sketched a ship on one of the pages of her notebook; sketching helped her ruminate when she hit a wall in her quest to find the cure to the Red Flu.

The likeness of the Captain of Nathan James that she had drawn was a fair representation in her opinion. She liked to sketch, but that didn't mean she was that good at it. In her opinion, science was the only thing she exceled at; everything else was fair to middling at best. Her father once shared with her that God gives people one gift, sometimes two, and that she should be grateful for her scientific mind.

Sometimes I still hate you, Dad. For what you did to Mom, and for how you made me feel. She sighed opening the door to her lab and stepped through it right into the arms of Captain Thomas Chandler. Her notebook fell to the deck, her loose notes scattering, drifting downward like leaves falling from a tree in fall. She automatically leaned forward attempting to retrieve them as Captain Chandler did the same. They narrowly missed butting heads and both stood up backing up from each other smiling.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she started, smiling "I didn't see you standing there." Well, that was a ridiculous statement. The man was a head taller than she was, a chiseled, well-built specimen of male pulchritude, all lean muscle and sexy beyond compare. How had she missed him? Temporary blindness?

He's in mourning! And here again was that blasted conundrum. In one way, she didn't want to even indicate that she had feelings for him, because he was at first married and now in mourning. But over the course of the past year, she had come to have both feelings and fantasies that she was jumping up and down on to get them back into a carefully constructed, mental box.

"I came to see about you, " he said helping her gather her loose pages of notes. "I haven't seen you in some time. I wanted to see if everything was okay? And, you can call me Tom." His ice-blue gaze pinned her to the spot.

It had been about two days since she'd last come out of her lab at a reasonable hour or interacted with anybody. She had a perfect excuse; work on cure dissemination was taking up all of her time. But that was a lie. She could have been a sociable human being and come up for air at various intervals.

Instead, she had barricaded herself in her lab and worked non-stop, coming out only when she was pretty sure most of the ship, including the Captain, was sound asleep. They were all Navy types, up before the crack of dawn and retiring early. Her natural predilection towards being a night owl stood her in good stead when it came to avoidance.

You knew he would come looking for you, her mind chided. You had to have known he'd come.

I was trying to avoid him, plain and simple. And if I was still in the lab, I could have blown him off with having a lot of work to do.

Is there something wrong?" he was asking bringing her back to the present. "Something I can help you with?"

Something wrong? Should I tell you that my feelings for you are driving me nuts? Should I tell you that the depth of what I feel scares me shitless? Should I tell you that the last thing I want to be is your friend? Should I – oh hell. "No, there's nothing wrong. I just have a lot of work right now."

"Are you sure?" He smiled when he spoke.

Such a beautiful smile . . . and beautiful in other areas. Stop! Get a grip, Rachel. "Yes, I'm sure." I'm not sure of anything, Chandler. Except answer one small question. Do you love me? Do you like me? Do you even know I exist beyond being Doctor Rachel Scott, creator of the cure and savior of humanity? In spite of herself, one of her favorite David Bowie songs played in her head, just one line of course, but it kept happening anytime she saw him. Love me, love me, love me, say you do . . .

"You have been AWOL in terms of eating and sleeping, I suspect lately. Thought I'd check in to see if you were okay?" There was that damned smile again.

Do you know what you do to me? What I'd like to do to you? "I've been pretty busy," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You need to take breaks, Rachel. We can't save the world if you drop from exhaustion." She noted that he had dropped the formality, which was something he tended to do when they were alone. We are friends, after all. The fact that my mind is already taking things to the next level doesn't change the fact that he likes me as a person.

"Yes, I know, Captain" she stated, looking away from him and down the corridor. Better to look away than continue to stare into those gorgeous eyes of yours. Too many things come to mind when I look at you too long, Chandler. "I'll get some more rest." She continued to stare away from him. Like, I love you and lust after your body.

"Please, call me Tom, and hey," he leaned down and around into the space where she was looking, forcing her to look at him. "I care about you . . ." Too close, Chandler! "You need to take some breaks," he continued, lowering his voice and moving in closer violating her personal space more. She felt the heat of him; she wanted to kiss him so badly that the thought took on a physical manifestation – pain, want, longing. It was about two in the morning; no one was around to see. And he was so close.

She stared at him, wondering if he felt the same way, if all these feeling of heat, lust and love were in his heart, too. Or, was she simply delusional? They say love makes you crazy, and standing this close to him drove that truth home to her.

"I care about you," he said again. "We have been through so much together. We need to take care of each other, make sure we're eating, sleeping and all the other things that makes us human."

The only way to the other side of the corridor is through you. "Are you trying to drive me insane, Tom?" Rachel realized too late that her thought had been verbalized. Well, he was in her personal space, so things just got personal.

"What?" he gave her a half smile, confused look, but didn't move. After a pause, he added: "I don't understand."

You can't be this dim, Chandler. Rachel leaned in, grabbing his shirt tugging him towards her. Stop, stop. She locked her lips to his all the while hoping this wasn't the worst mistake of her life. If he doesn't reciprocate, I'm never leaving my lab again. If he does reciprocate, I'm never leaving my lab again.

The kiss lasted longer than she thought it would, as he drew her towards him lifting her up on until she was on her tiptoes. There was passion and longing, she felt it coursing between them, but then he withdrew, and she saw the red blush of his cheeks, the confusion in his eyes. He gently placed her back on the deck, running his hand through his blond-grey hair, stepping back.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I mean –" I love you. Ah, shit, I just messed up everything.

"No, it's okay." He cut her off with a wave of his hand, "Uh, don't be a stranger in the ward room. I want you to eat well. And get enough rest." He turned on his heel to leave.

"Of course," she replied, turning back towards the lab she had just left. She had no intentions of going to the wardroom or anywhere else he was. You realize, you just totally embarrassed yourself with him.

He stopped, his back to her. "Rachel, wait. I hadn't planned on talking to you so soon, but in light of what - "

At that moment, that was the last thing she wanted to hear. When they say they need to talk, they want to let you down easy, figure a gentlemanly way of saying you screwed up. Escaping that level of rejection seemed a better plan at this moment, so she reopened the door to the lab, stepping through and closing it behind her quickly.

She knew backing into her lab was a ridiculous move, but her only other option was to run away. She couldn't see herself running away from him down the corridor. He might follow her, and then where would they be. The only thing worst than making a complete fool out of yourself with someone was to run off forcing them to follow. If they passed anyone, which was more than likely on a ship this size, it would fuel gossip for weeks.

She would just stay in her lab forever; it was familiar and safe. In spite of her best efforts, her mind raced. She leaned back on the door. What have I done? I just let my damned feelings ruin my relationship with a man I'm dependent upon to save humanity. I never let my guard down. What just happened? And, how can I fix it. At the very least, he knows that I want more from him. But, what if he just figured out that I love him? And what if he doesn't love me. Oh damn, this is why I don't do relationships on the deep.

She turned her laptop back on. She would just work until she dropped. What is wrong with you? She sat in front of the computer screen staring at the startup screen. Her self-condemnation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, followed by a muffled, "Rachel?"

Chandler hadn't left like she thought. What is wrong with me? I can take on terrorists and deadly pathogens. I fought the entire United States bureaucracy to get stationed on this ship to do this research. Men have always been a necessary evil from time to time, but my feelings have always ran shallow until now. And, now I've put my foot into it with a man whom I should have no feelings for at all. She heard the knock again, but didn't respond.

"But I do have feelings for you. So many and so deep." She whispered to an empty lab. She thought the universe must be having a fine laugh at her expense.

If I open that door, there's no going back. Ruination or reward, all things would change now. If you hadn't violated my personal space, none of this would have happened, Chandler.

So now it's his fault? "No, it was just bad timing, exhaustion and loneliness," she mumbled to herself. She could explain it away that way to him. He was probably thinking the same thing. We're both adults. We can just have a cup of tea and push the boundaries back into place.

Who am I kidding.

The knocking stopped, and she let out a soft sigh of relief. Things would not change tonight; as long as he stayed on the other side of that door, she could pretend that she hadn't just put her foot in it. She stared at the petri dishes lined up on the lab desk, looked back at the analysis starting up on her computer then at the rats in their cages. Rubbing her eyes, she started another simulation. Science was safe, predictable even when things weren't going your way. Scientific analysis ran from start to finish and not jumping to the middle then backtracking and moving forward much the way her feelings ran.