Welp, I couldn't stay away long after that kind of finale. I'm sure there will be several different takes on this moment, and of course, I wanted to throw mine in there too. Thanks to cathycath for hearing me out in my plotting : ) Enjoy!
"Great dress, by the way," the words purposefully slipped out. Tom Chandler meant them. Rachel Scott had never looked more beautiful. She was indeed beautiful, every day, it never ceased to dawn on him. But now, in this moment, in that dress, there was no way he couldn't let her know how great she looked. Stunning didn't cover it.
He was out of practice, still fresh from the loss of his wife. He couldn't help but take the opportunity to tell her though. There was so much more he wanted to say, really. Her adorable laughter, her clear discomfort over her attire couldn't have been more endearing. He adored this woman. Those words, however, were yet to spoken, even in his own mind, completely outright.
Rachel was flattered by his words, she could feel her cheeks blushing. He looked completely magnificent in his dress blues, she'd noticed that the moment she'd seen him. He looked every ounce the Commander—Captain—that he indeed was. Especially in his cover. It was hard not to feel smitten in his presence these days, and after all they'd been through, after everything he'd just said, the look they shared in the park, she finally felt like he had forgiven her for her actions, that they had somehow moved past the rough waters they'd been circling in since the sub had made its appearance. This. This was nice. Different. Welcome. It had been a long time since he'd charmed her, and now, she knew she was completely hooked.
"The judge's daughter loaned it to me. She insisted that I couldn't really go to an inaugural ball dressed in jeans," brushing a piece of her hair back, she stepped forward, the heels giving her a slight bounce and sway, something about the little bit of champagne, and this banter giving her a flirtatious confidence. She felt renewed, purposeful. And the smell of his aftershave or cologne was beckoning her just a wee bit closer.
"Mmm. You could have pulled it off," Tom never took his eyes off hers, couldn't. And he meant it. He'd seen her in jeans, for months. It was a sight he wouldn't soon forget.
Rachel took in his words, at a sudden loss of her own. The world had shifted between them, something had changed. He was focused on her, but not with the anger or the missioned expression she'd come so accustomed to. This was not Captain Chandler, this was Tom. A small smile found her lips, as she took a few more steps forward, sliding the envelope into his hand, brushing his fingertips. He looked slightly unsure as she had stepped closer, he wasn't ready, she could tell. It didn't change anything for her, but she respected his mourning, his place he was currently in. She'd always been ahead of him, in most cases. What was one more?
So many things to say, so many words left unsaid. This wasn't the time, or the moment. He wasn't there yet. And she was leaving.
"I'll see you when I see you," she whispered, her eyes again never left his. How could they, with his blues drawing her in. She couldn't bear to ruin the moment, not with a goodbye. She'd see him again, she was sure of it.
So many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to vocalize them. No, don't go. But she didnt have a choice, and neither did he. And what good would that do? He couldn't bear to ruin what was finally building between them, fresh from the blood and drama of their travels. A fresh start. For both of them. But as she walked away, with one last glowing smile, he can't help but speak one last time. "Be safe," because she needed to return, and she wouldn't have his protection for the first time since they'd started this journey, together. "When you get back, find me." He'll be ready then, he knows it. Things will be different. A new life. That needed to include her, one way or another. He needed her to return to him, safe and sound. Because the alternative, losing her and Darien, was too much to come to terms with.
Tom's words halted her. Wishing for her safety. She doesn't know when she'll return, if she'll return. But if she does, he can bet he'll be the first person she looks for in St. Louis. One last smile and she finds herself turned, walking away from him before she change her mind, before she would find herself in his arms. She never got her enthusiastic embrace. A moment for another time she supposes. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away, and part of that left her pleased. Though their moment together ended too soon, it was well-played between them. The kind of conversation she'd replay in her mind over and over on the lonely moments of her travel. She prided herself in her independence, but something about him and their partnership in building the cure together, in saving the world together, made her enjoy the companionship of someone who was focused and driven just as much as she was. They had that in common. She knew she would miss that.
Tom watched her go, not only out of pleasure, but out of loss. She was moving on, and no matter which way he cut that, it still stung a little. Much like the fresh scar from the recent surgery he'd let her perform, all the shrapnel removed from his body. No more souvenirs of their tribulations. At least internal ones, painful ones. Sliding the key into the door, he let himself in once she was out of sight, around the corner. He carried the envelope to the small desk, making a mental reminder to give it to the president first thing in the morning. Maybe he'd get up early, to see her off. One last goodbye. He would see about it, didn't want to ruin what they'd just had.
Flirting. He smirked to himself as he set down his cover, unbuttoned his jacket. He'd miss her, Tom knew. Life wouldn't be the same without her strong personality biting at his heels over every decision he made. From that first moment in the p-way what felt like millenniums ago, Captain Chandler, you had no right to pull me from my work. He rubbed his forehead, sitting down on the bed, undoing his tie, unbuttoning the first button on his shirt. At that moment, all she was for him was a thorn in his side, a tenant on his ship. He would have never guessed they would have grown this close, come this far, dominated this together. Tom wouldn't have changed a moment, not a chance. Other than maybe her choice over Neils. But he was going to let bygones be bygones this time. Rehashing the past wouldn't change a thing. Not now.
It wouldn't bring Darien back, and that was a cold, hard truth he had to live with every day of his life. Spinning his wedding ring around, he wondered if he could move on, if he should. He loved her, still loved her, so much. She was gone. It was a hole in his heart he didn't know if he could fill.
But Rachel, she was getting closer to the vest than he ever would have thought she could have. He would miss her, and that was a feeling he wasn't quite sure of yet.
He stood, finding the bottle of aged scotch he and Mike Slattery had shared hours earlier, toasting to their victory and their new start. He knew Mike would be setting off to find his family, and Tom would be in this new position alone for a while. Chief of Naval Operations. A smile tugged at his lips as he poured himself a small amount. Celebration. This all called for one. And they had quite the ball. He should have danced with her, he thought in retrospect. He'd eyed her all night. Taking a sip of the strong liquid, he can see her bright as day in his mind. She'd stay there until he saw her again. Who knew what life would be like then. Getting his father and kids out her would be a great change. He'd made it, albeit the close calls. He couldn't wait to wrap his arms around them once more.
The sound cut his thoughts and the silence like a serrated knife. The sound he had nightmares about, the sound he was all too familiar with. Tom set his glass down as he reached for his small pistol in the breast pocket of his jacket. He'd kept it in there just in case. And this proved to be the moment he was all too afraid of.
Tom pulled open his door, as his heart raced. Not a soul in the hallway, but he knew with how loud the noise was, it couldn't have come from too far. Carefully, with the stealth of the trained Navy Seal and Navy Commander he was, he slipped into the hallway, holding his weapon in front of him, looking at every door for a potential suspect, a potential wounded. He swore silently. Of course the other shoe would drop. Of course things were too good to be true. Peace. It was so far from their grasps, no matter how hard they tried.
The sight around the corner was something he was not prepared for, could never have prepared for. Her hair splayed out on the floor, her body immobile, awkwardly laying against the wall. His breath caught in his chest, his eyes widened, his weapon and his own protection forgotten. "Rachel," it escaped in a whisper as he rushed toward her. Not her. Not now. Not after everything.
I'm a little rusty, it's been a while, so please be kind. This is not a one-shot, I have every intention of continuing this. I hope to update every Sunday as I did before. But I make no promises, because we all know how life gets crazy. Bear with me, because this will be a chapter-story. I'm excited about my ideas and have to get them out! I hope you enjoy this, remember, reviews are love and so greatly appreciated!
What a FANTASTIC season! Here's to season 3! (and the unfortunate ten months of waiting!)