AN: Prompt fill for the lovely galfridian on tumblr. Hope you all enjoy :)
for whatever we lose / (a you or a me) / it's always ourselves / we find in the sea
- e.e. cummings
She wakes, confused but immediately alert. There's something wrong and she knows it; she's built a gut feeling for these kinds of things in her three years on this ship.
Rachel sits up and takes in her surroundings. She realizes, with a waves of panic rushing through her, that she's in the James' tiny infirmary, head resting uncomfortably on her arm and her neck cricking painfully as she moves on the chair that she's settled in.
It takes a couple of seconds before her memories come back in a flurry of danger and worry and panic.
"You can't be serious?!"
"Of course I am; there's no one better to do this, you know that."
"But it's essentially a suicide mission; you know how dangerous these people can be. Do you not remember Baltimore? Or Florida? Or New Orleans?"
"Don't be ridiculous, of course I remember. Do you?"
It's a low blow and she knows it; she knows Tom remembers. She knows he remembers the horrors that they all saw, the violence, the brutality, the inhumanity of it all. She knows he remembers the pain of his grief after losing Darien. Shes knows he remembers the number of men and women who died protecting the ship, died protecting the cure, died protecting their fellow sailors.
The argument seems so long ago now, but Rachel knows that it's only been four days since then.
Tom's been unconscious for most of that.
She hears a soft cough behind her and a familiar hand on her shoulder. She leans into the touch, welcomes the warmth of her friend's palm through her shirt. Looking up, Rachel meets Tex's eyes and gives him a faint smile.
"You alright Doc?" Three years of close friendship and he still falls back on the familiar title.
"I'm fine. Slept a little funny but it's worth it."
"I know what you mean. Want me to take over while you freshen up a little? Seems to me like you've been here all night again…"
Rachel merely shakes her head, keeps her gaze focused on the sleeping man in front of her.
"I want to stay, be here when he wakes up. Doc Rios said last night that he's past the worst of the concussion, it's just a case of waiting for him to get his stubborn head back into the waking world."
Tex chuckles and pulls up a chair next to her.
"I understand," he says leaning back and eyeing both Rachel and the man lying in the bed beside her. "I know he'd be the same if the positions were reversed."
Rachel hums in acknowledgment and looks down, tracing the path of the IV from the bag of clear liquid to Tom's hand. Instinctively she reaches out, takes his hand in hers, careful not to disturb the cannula.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice so quiet that not even Tex can hear her.
The silence she receives in return breaks her heart just a little bit more.
She hears Tex leave a few minutes later, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors of the ship. There's a familiar hum of the engines as they travel across the ocean; Rachel's so used to the sound now that she barely processes it anymore. Every aspect of this ship has been ingrained in her mind and body since their original departure from Norfolk all those years ago.
"You can't do this now Tom," Rachel mutters, thumb tracing over the ridges of his knuckles. "Not after everything we've been through. The crew, they still need you. I still need you…"
Tom remains sleeping as if he has all the time in the world.
Rachel is fully aware that she's rambling, talking to a man who probably can't even hear her, let alone process the words. She moves her free hand up to Tom's head and carefully touches the edge of the bandage that covers his scalp.
"You need to wake up Tom; you promised me a proper meal when we arrived back at Norfolk, and I'm sorry, but having a concussion and being in a coma is a lousy excuse to miss a date."
There's no trace of humour in her voice, despite her words. The two of them have been stepping so tentatively towards a relationship in the last year that Rachel suddenly realizes how fragile it's all been. And with that realization is the overwhelming fear that a couple of impulsive kisses and some private meals is all she's going to get with this man.
If Tom doesn't wake up she'll have lost her second chance, lost her opportunity to love him with everything she's capable of.
She's not sure how she'd be able to handle that.
He needs to wake up.
"Please…" she sighs, resigned, afraid. They've lost so many people in the last few years (Darien, Quincy, Mike, Burk, Alisha, Danny; the list goes on and on and on…) that she can't face losing him too.
She sits in silence, watching, waiting.
It seems like hours have passed when she feels it; the slight twitch of Tom's fingers in hers. Rachel's eyes snap to Tom's face and she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees his eyes flutter open. She waits patiently for him to awaken fully.
Rachel keeps his hand in hers.
"Hey," Tom whispers after a couple of minutes, voice hoarse and rough from its lack of use. He looks at her with a mix of confusion and happiness, as if he didn't expect her to be there at all.
"Welcome back," Rachel whispers and smiles when his fingers squeeze her own…