Disclaimer: I don't own The Last Ship, et al.

Far Off Places

The tropical mist was so dense he couldn't see through it. He stood still, bracing himself as he listened to the silence that somehow penetrated the moment. Birds chirped and a light breeze rustled the trees far above from where he stood. Sighing into himself, he was momentarily lulled by the smooth, systematic sound of waves rolling onto the shore. His throat was dry. His heart beat at a steady strum akin to a guitar, slow and steady now and in symphony with the ebb and flow of the waves behind him. The air was warm and wet and sticky – and salty and organic – and coupled with something else … something familiar and heady with a need so raw and basic, that it urged him move forward without thinking.

For he'd been here before … a smile broke across his face.

He moved now, almost instinctively, though he felt a strange sensation as if he was floating, lighter than air and yet when he looked down he could see his feet (bare) sinking into the warm sand (damp and white and familiar) and made of fine, smooth granules. Further inspection revealed that he was nearly naked, wearing only a pair of swimming trunks … and a fancy new scar on the right, lower quadrant of his abdomen (one that he had no frame of reference for). He brushed his fingers against the tender skin, pain radiated and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise, his skin covered in goose flesh now.

Eyes forward again he moved through the mist, breathing in and out as he moved large palm fronds aside, making his way via memory now – his heart rate slow and steady still as he searched the great white horizon all around him – the ocean, his ocean … a far off place now, a distant memory. Straining his senses now he listened – a vacuum flooding his ears – the beat of his own heart drowned out by the thunderous sound of rushing water.

The waterfall. He smiled to himself again.

Propelled by his fond memories, he moved at a faster clip now, only slightly bothered by this new wound, wondering if he would be granted with the same gorgeous sight as the last time he'd been here – to this spot – on his honeymoon with his new wife. Feeling more certain with every step, he moved to the interior of the more secluded island, the groundcover now mossy and green with years of overgrowth from the tropical rainforest.

Reaching his destination, he stepped through a clearing that somehow materialized, the mist opaque now as he searched the clearing for the love of his life to no avail. Something was amiss.

Walking further into spiritual space, the roar of the water became louder and even louder still until he saw it, a sight for sore eyes – the majestic, sixty-foot waterfall just as he remembered it – tall and proud and gorgeous and untouched as it pounded into the natural spring – a deep, mint green, fresh water pool – the elixir, so pure, so luxurious, so opulent … the ancient potent cocktail of minerals known for their healing powers … proven to reset the ions within minutes of submersion ... the superfluous indigenous bubbles so powerful, they could dwarf the biggest of problems.

Puzzled as to why he was alone, he set his hand over his scar and decided to slip into the water – the bubbles bursting against his skin as he walked in as far as he could, the moss, slippery and lush, the natural elixir warm on the surface, yet cooler near his feet. He looked up, the sun was high in the sky, yet the forest was so dense, he could only feel intermittent heat … the essence of the sun. Perching himself along a group of stones, he sat there for a long while, wondering where his lovely wife was … yet a foreboding feeling told him that she would never emerge from the jungle the way she did all those years ago.

###

Atypically now, he resigned himself to this fate of being here, on this sacred ground … alone … and somehow … he accepted it … he owned it as if he knew it was true … that his beloved was gone forever.

Closing his eyes now, he sank deeper into the water and allowed himself to free float on the surface, he focused on the looming trees above him … training his eyes now on a colorful butterfly swirling and swooping and fluttering without a care in the world … the leaves swaying in the warm, soothing breeze, the muted sound of the world barely audible over the roar of the water. Closing his eyes now, he imagined he was a small boy again at his parents lake house … floating in the fresh water … summertime, without a care … just like the lone butterfly … until he heard the warbled call of his name from somewhere far off in the distance … a voice he knew well … the voice of reason … of meaningfulness … the voice of his savior.

"Tom …," she called again.

"Rachel …," he answered, suddenly treading water, his eyes sweeping the landscape until he spotted her.

She sat perched on the side of the natural pool where he was just moments ago, only her upper body visible … the water circulating around her torso, she wore a bathing suit, black, simple. Her hair pinned up into a high bun, her liquid brown eyes, clear and endless … her mouth pressed into a thin, yet gorgeous line (he thought he'd very much like to pry open with a kiss). Without thinking, he swam towards her, his wound radiating with pain, a dull ache as he moved. He came to sit beside her on the rocks like it was the most natural thing for him to do … his eyes pinned to hers and hers to his as the water lapped and swirled around their bodies.

"I wasn't … expecting you," he said soberly, his eyes on the waterfall.

"I know …," she smiled weakly. "I'm sorry … I wish the outcome was different," she added, barely audible over the water's roar.

"You've already said that … 'sorry' … and I've already said … 'try not to be' … neither one of us could have prevented her death …," he exhaled, letting his hands float over the surface of the warm water, his wedding band playing against the fragmented sunlight. Thick tears blurred his vision; he raised his hands and splashed some of the elixir on his face. "So … what are we doing here?" he wondered then.

Rachel shook her head. "I have no idea … this is your dream," she whispered, tilting her head, she regarded him, her eyes softer, somehow not as serious … but just as damning, just as beautiful.

"Am … I dying?" he asked of her then, his wound pinching at him now, he shifted his weight and turned toward her, the heat of her body a welcome sensation.

"Not if I can help it ...," she sighed, inching closer, she dipped her hand in the water and set it along his scar, the new skin soothed by her touch.

Tom felt himself lean into her … welcoming their connection. "All I remember … is Valkyrie …," he exhaled, fastening her eyes to his where he watched her blush under his scrutiny.

"Hmm … you shouldn't dwell on that now, what's happened has happened …," she uncharacteristically mumbled, insecurity covering her akin to a cloak now. She exhaled and applied gentle pressure to his wound.

"What should I do then?" he wondered, raising his hand to smooth some of her flyaway tendrils away from her face wherein he lost himself within her calming aura.

"Maybe you should … tell me … why you're so incredibly angry with me … and I should explain to you … how much I truly regret that," she suggested, turning into him slightly.

"Niels …," he exhaled, shaking his head. "Our … downfall," he muttered and Rachel recoiled, removing her hand from his abdomen … he felt bereft. "Don't," he sighed, reaching for her hand, he laced his fingers with hers and set it on his sensitive flesh again. "Make ... it better …," he smiled weakly and drew her near.

Rachel mimicked his smile and held her hand in place. "You know … nothing I can say will change what I did or how I felt about it …," she whispered in confidence. "It's just that now … you and I … he's won, you know … we're at odds … and I feel – God, I feel like I gave you up – I'm just … so … …," her voice broke off then, her eyes frantic for answers now.

"Lost?" Tom suggested, inching closer now.

"Yes …," she whispered, nodding in assent, her lips pinched together while he watched tiny tears pop from her eyes and cascade down her heart-shaped face.

"So … am I … without you …," he implored, gathering her into the envelope of his arms, the water splashing around them as they moved, her body heat soothing him like nothing else.

And here they stayed for several long, comforting minutes, nestled deep within a jungle in a remote rainforest and tucked even deeper inside the dark recesses of Tom's subconscious – his arms wrapped tightly around her, his nose pressed into the crease of her neck, his lips set upon her naked shoulder – her knee jackknifed over his thighs, her head resting on his shoulder – his thoughts centralized on this dreamscape and what it might come to signify if he remembered it at all.

"I hate that I disappointed you," Rachel confessed into their heat then; his waiting tears gathered.

Turning his head slightly, he whispered into her ear, "I hate that too … because … I never wanted this for you."

Rachel gasped then, holding onto him for dear life now as she began to cry in earnest. God, he would have done anything in that moment to mitigate her anguish, his heart pinched low and deep and he felt light-headed. Pulling out of their embrace, he came to cradle her skull in his hands; a rogue need to kiss her senseless barreling through his mind now.

"Look at me …," he ordered instead, finding her eyes. "I hate what this has done to you … this virus … and Niels …," he sighed urgently as if running out of time. "It's breaking my heart … all the killing … and my … backing you into a corner like that … I'm sorry for my part in all this, I'm angry at myself …," he sighed, pressing his lips to the crown of her head where they lingered and he breathed her in … her essence encapsulating him now in the way he'd always imagined it would.

"And I'm sorry for my part …," she acquiesced, looking up to find his eyes, her hot breath fanning his face. "We're a real mess, the pair of us …," she intimated with a weak smile.

"We are …," he agreed, feeling alighted from their little talk, just skimming the iceberg of all that went wrong between them. "What now?" he wondered without moving, for he could admit she felt good in his arms.

"I don't know … I know … you'll need to wake up soon," she sighed with a small smile that reached her eyes.

"And then what … will I remember this? Do you think … my being 'here' with you?" he wondered aloud, his thoughts on the beauty of the moment and how he really didn't want to forget it.

"The mind is a vast landscape of memories, Tom … some people report remembering indelible dreams such as these – some in the medical community believe that these little strings of dreams are comprised of the things in life that are most central to us in our longevity –"

"So … my being 'here' with you is crucial … to me …," Tom articulated softly. "My need to resolve this thing between us – this impasse – I would agree … it's been foremost on my mind, Rachel …," he exhaled on the truth.

"On mine too …," she smiled, craning her neck to look at him. "Do you feel better?" she asked of him then, her eyes soft around the edges.

"I do …," he whispered, leaning in, his breath fanning her face now. "I want things to go back to normal between us … whatever normal is," he admitted, shocking even himself.

"Me too …," she also admitted, sighing into their heat. "Tom …," she whispered inching closer. "If … now would be the time, even if the timing isn't right here … but … if ever you were going to –"

"Kiss you …," he muttered, before he closed the miniscule distance between them and did just that … he kissed her, long and hard, soft and supple … over and over again.

So lost within this incredible force of a woman now, that he wasn't sure where he began and she ended as he held her even closer now, her hands caressing him, healing him while he did the same for her. Moving her onto his lap, the warm water circulating around them in perpetuity now – they kissed again and again without abandon – wherein all of the death and dying and destruction they'd experienced became mere circumstances for this moment … this catalyst that brought them 'here', to this echelon, to this plateau in some other space and time where they resided … together … nestled deep within the pocket of Tom's mind's eye.

The filtered sunlight cascading above them, their blended body heat doing crazy, healing things to their ions. Their keen eyes, all-seeing for now with their lips and mouths moving in tandem, completely open to one another, garnering strength from their omnipotent connection they'd denied for so long.

Yes, the would-be lovers healed one another, absorbing the natural cocktail of minerals they were submersed within … fully aware now of those superfluous indigenous bubbles that popped all around them, truly made their largest of problems seem small and manageable. Because in that moment, nothing else mattered to Tom but her and fixing this thing with her so they could move on and focus on the tasks at hand … those unforgiving circumstances that put them on the Nathan James together in the first place.

And so, yes, Tom lost himself within her as the sanctuary they were nestled deep within fell away and the aura of her tender kisses and caresses were replaced by the thick, opaque tropical mist as it shrouded him once again and he became lost within the euphoric knowledge that he'd begun his healing process with her, knowing now that they would be all right … truly hoping he wouldn't forget his time with Rachel … 'here'.

###

He blinked and stared at the ceiling, his eyes dry, his mouth parched. Disoriented, he had a vague feeling he'd gone swimming – he closed his eyes, trying to get back to that warm, safe place – if only … if only, he sighed, but he realized it was only a dream now as the more powerful events that took place on the oil rig flooded his mind again, his last words rummaging around his brain now as he'd stared at Garnett and she at him with that wild look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he repeated aloud. And then a warm, familiar hand covered his and he turned his head and found her there … his voice of reason … his savior, waiting for him. "Rachel …," he sighed.

"Tom …," she exhaled, her concern morphing into relief.

"We're … going to be all right," he whispered, their whereabouts puzzling him for a beat longer, for he'd sworn they were just … together … somewhere … in some far off majestic place.

END