Tom doesn't wish to think about what had happened with her and
Ruskov. Clearly, she took a number of hits. Does he wan't to know
truly? What would happen if he looked on her back? A soft sigh
escapes him, keeping the pressure up against her forehead.

'I'm starting to think you like this.
Putting yourself in danger. Get a
high off of it? What would happen
if they released us? Just Tex and
I? We need you for the cure. You
gotta stop putting a risk to yourself.'

He's gonna have a heart attack by the time they actually get a proper
cure with the way she was going. A brow arches, at the mention of
the note passing. He wants to ask her about it. Why him? Why not
Tex? He breathes in and out, watching her carefully so she doesn't
fall asleep.

'You just think of everything.
Don't you?'

XXXXX

She wants to drop her head in defeat at his words, but she can't
because his hand and the fabric are still very much pressed
to her forehead. She honestly wants to lean against him,
her head is pounding and she could use a brace.

She chooses to feign strength, looking up at him. She's
not sure her strength meets her eyes, but she tries like
hell to appear unscathed.

"I don't sit on the sidelines well, Captain.
How do you think I ended up on your ship
in the first place? And in this case there
was a team coming for us. Where they
are now, I'm not sure. Worse over worse,
I would have stayed, while they let you two
go. That was the most important part; you
don't need me any longer."

Another flush creeps up her cheeks and she's thankful
for the dim light. She did think of the kiss, thought it her
best hope at getting it to him. She wasn't sure she could
confess that portion though.

"It worked, did it not? How else should
I have passed it? Shaking your hand
seemed a bit obvious."

XXXXX

Tom's cyan hues are eyeing the dark blue cloth well aware that the
blood probably wouldn't show up very well. He takes his hand away,
gaze dropping to the fabric to examine the blood, to see if it was a
lot or a little. It seemed to be slowing down, good. He doesn't have
anything to patch her up with other then his cloth. Her poor forehead.
She was absolutely stunning, she'd have a pretty decent sized battle
scar to show off. He hates it. Hates that she willingly went to save him.
It pisses him off to great length.

Hadn't the XO known how IMPORTANT she was? Cure done or not.
Hues dart at her, and his free hand is gripping her wrist tightly for her
to look at him, in the face.

'Don't you dare say we don't need
you anymore. You're wrong. So damn
wrong.'

As serious as he is in this moment, he can't help but chuckle lightly.
He has a wife. He shouldn't be replaying their heated kiss in his
mind over and over again. But he is…

'Could've cut me with that knife.
Pretty skilled for a doctor, Scott.'

XXXXX

She looks up at him, he's holding her wrist, and her
headache is dulled by the blue hue of his eyes. It's
mesmerizing. Everything about him is so intense and
she finds herself only able to focus on those eyes.

And those lips. Now that she's touched them with hers,
she seems to be unable to take her eyes, and thoughts,
away from them.

"Why am I so important?
I've done everything you needed
me to do. Well, minus rescuing you."

The last sentence is more of a sigh, because she failed
in this department. Though if she had to be held captive
with someone, he would be her choice.

That chuckle sends warmth through her soul. A smile
pulls at one side of her full lips, albeit swollen.

"I had the utmost confidence in myself
that I would not cut you or me. Though
you definitely helped me with the way
you kissed back."

Despite her injuries, her sass is still there.

XXXXX

Her eyes are so deep, he swears he could get lost in them forever.
Guilt sinks in deeper and deeper, he tries his hardest to shove these
emotions down the pits of his stomach, of his soul. It wasn't allowed.
It shouldn't ever be allowed. But ever since her tongue had collided
with his, he can't help himself. He's a man. A big man, and a man of
need.

A light delicate sigh escapes him, he smooths out her dark golden
brown locks, again– shaking his head. She was a damn smart woman.
She had figured out how to create a CURE for god's sake! How could
she be so blind?

'You boarded my ship, you're a part
of my ship. I have to protect you. How
in the hell am I supposed to protect
you from—- these animals that seem
to never stop? Do you have a death
wish?

Although his words are violent with extremely heavy meaning, his
voice is soft, gentle almost. A tone he wasn't exactly USED too.

'I just went with it. Was it your idea?
—- How do you feel?'

XXXXX

She's sucked in, drunk on his gaze and she's not thinking about
anything else but his soft, gentle words. There's something tender
there, she can't quite describe it, but maybe it's his tone? Either way,
she's smitten. If she thought she was before today, this is solidifying it.

He has a wife, children somewhere in the world. She'd trying to pull
herself together, trying to pull her eyes away and she just can't because
there's a magnet locking her darker ones to his oh-so vibrant ones.

And then he's running a hand over her hair, and she can't help but
lean into his touch. She craves it actually. She can hardly admit it to
herself. But she wants to, God, she wants to.

Her brow furrows a bit at his words. How is h e supposed to protect her?

"Tom,"

His name is rolling off her tongue and she can't rein it back in–she
doesn't really want to.

"You don't have to protect me.
I'll be fine."

She knows she's not fine, knows she's probably far from it and truthfully,
she wants him to protect her. How can she say that though? She knows
her voice betrays how she really feels–so does the way she's looking at him.

"It was my idea. A last minute decision.
You were perfect under pressure."

She pauses, letting the moment sink in.

"Can we sit? I think I need to sit."

Her knees were a little weak, if she was being honest.