A/N: Hi and welcome to my very first The Last Ship fanfiction piece! I'm a huge Tom x Rachel shipper (is there a name for them yet? I've seen so many versions online, like Tomchel, Rachandler etc., but is there an official one yet?), and to be honest: the season 2 finale gave me so many feels. Like, the final scene of Tom and Rachel together? Perfection. The last scene of the episode? Not so perfect. They left us with a lot of guesswork until the season 3 premiere, and I just had to write something for them to ease my withdrawal symptoms. So, here you go.

This first chapter is pretty angsty, I promise that any upcoming updates will have a lighter tone. I do know where I want this story to end, I'm just not so sure yet about how I'm going to get there. But I will, eventually. Please keep in mind that English is not my first language, and that any mistakes are mine.

Sadly, I do not own this show, or its characters.

Something was wrong. She sensed it, though she had no idea what had caused it. She was a doctor, a scientist, she had learned to recognize, to determine that something was amiss, without as much as a spoken word.

The air around her felt thick, it was making it hard for her to breathe. Her body ached, but she had no idea where the actual source of her suffering came from. All she could see was darkness, if she even had the ability to see, she wasn't sure. Her eyelids felt heavy, her limbs felt heavy. Was she able to move at all? At times she thought she could hear, but the sounds didn't seem familiar to her. It was as if she was in a large space, hollow, yet occupied with thousands of people, buzzing, echoing, but no words actually came through to her. Beeping, constant beeping, with an annoying underwater sound effect. This was nuts. Maybe she was nuts.

Suddenly, it felt as if she was pulled back into the mist, a bottomless pit. Cold fingers gripped her heart, it scared her. She tried to reach, to kick her way up, back unto the surface. But she was too weak. How she hated to be weak. She detested it. But she couldn't fight it, it was useless. The darkness enveloped her once again, as she felt herself slip into unconsciousness, the anchor to which she was strapped finally hitting the bottom of the ocean.

The next time she drifted upwards towards the surface, her head was clearer, though she wasn't able to control her limbs yet. She tried to focus, but couldn't find anything to hold on to. That is, until she heard him.

Tom.

Her mind, her whole being suddenly clung to him. Thomas Chandler, the elemental male, stubborn, tough.. and his sea blue eyes, which sometimes used to glitter down at her with a tender look in them, made him a man she found impossible to resist. Snippets of a monologue, spoken through his low, rough voice, gave her something to hold onto.

"When will she wake up?" She couldn't quite make out the answer that was given to his question, which more or less sounded more like a demand for intel than a simple inquiry after her health. How typical. The answer the doctor gave him, was undoubtedly that they didn't know, that it was completely up to her now. Rachel had enough medical experience to know that there was nothing they could do, but to wait. The only problem was that now, instead of the messenger, she was the direct object. Interesting change in point-of-view, she thought bitterly.

"Rachel? Rachel, can you hear me?"

Yes, yes Tom! Yes, I can hear you, loud and clear.

"I know you can hear me, Rachel. Wake up."

Oh Tom, you and your commands. We're both perfectly aware of the fact that I am far from a member of your crew, but still.. I want to obey your every order now more than ever. If only I could get my body to obey. But I'm here, Tom. I'm here.

"Please.." Wait. Was that..? Was that a sob?

"God, please. Rachel, please wake up. I.. We need you."

The next moment, images flashed before her eyes. Rachel wanted to shake her head, to clear her head from the gruesome memories. She saw people, dying. She couldn't control it, the images flashed continiously in high speed. She saw people that were dear to her, and people that she'd never met, or at least, they didn't seem familiar. Rachel tried to focus, tried to steer away, but it was no use. She could hear people, screaming at her, begging her to come and help her. Most of the images were hazy, but from time to time, various people stood out, as if they had come forward through the mist. She then saw her mother, her face covered in sweat.

Her precious mother was lying on a pile of recently deceased people, and Rachel felt sick to the stomach when she realized the Chandler children were among them. Rachel choked on her unshed tears, as her eyes focused on a blonde woman, her lifeless arms protectively hugging her deceased daughter and son, her face turned away from her. It was as if, even in death, Darien Chandler couldn't bear the sight of her.

A single tear ran down Rachel's cheek, as she desperately tried to get to her own dying mother, who held her hand out for her, begging her to save her. "Rachel…" Her mother's bloodless, cracked lips formed her name, but all that came out was a weak whisper. Yet that one word rang in Rachel's head like an alarm, as she frantically tried to will her legs to move. But she couldn't, because it seemed as if something, or someone, was holding her back.

Suddenly, the scenery changed, and she was inside the lab where her mentor, Julius Hunter, was killed. She could hear the gunshots, and she didn't hesitate for a second, as she flew across the hallway, her sole instinct to get to him, to save him. But she was too late. When she reached the room, she saw her mentor sliding towards the floor, his life's blood spilling from his wounds. He looked up at her, his eyes large and wild with surprise and horror, his lips moving as he was gasping for air. She then heard Tom's voice bellowing through her ears, "You don't get to decide what is right!" and she looked down, shock and self loathing flowing through her veins as she saw the gun in her shaking hands. It was she, who had given Dr. Julius Hunter the fatal blow.

Discusted with herself, she threw the gun through the room, only to be transferred back to the Nathan James' medical bay, with her very capable captain rolling up his shirt sleeve to give Rachel better access to vaccinate him. With the syringe in hand, she stepped closer to the bed. The light falling on his wedding band made her hesitate for a moment, and she blinked, once, twice, before looking up again. She was shocked to see her father standing there in front of her, his backed turned towards her, while he was looking down at Tom, blocking her own view of the man. Her father then turned around, his eyes void of emotions.

"Rachel," he whispered, and she unconsciously took a step backwards, taken aback by his presence. Her father shook his head at her, smacking his lips. "You stupid girl. How in the world could you possibly believe that you could save him? Only the Lord decides who lives and dies," his words echoed through her head, as long forgotten memories and pain coursed through her veins. The last time he had said those words in her presence, was when her mother lay dying with malaria, and all he did was standing there, doing nothing to save his wife.

She then pushed her father out of the way, but stood transfixed a moment after. Commander Thomas Chandler, Captain in the United States Navy, lay lifeless on the bed, the effects of the deadly virus a silent witness as unseeing eyes looked up at her. Her hestitation had cost him his life.

And then, finally, after a week of unconsciousness, she woke up.