A/N: To everyone I owe a reply to for their amazing reviews to Chapter 24, please accept my deepest and most sincere apologies. I promise I will reply to everyone tomorrow. I'm really sorry, I do genuinely appreciate all your kind words, they honestly mean so much to me. I will make sure you all have a proper reply tomorrow but in the meantime - thank you so much, and I love you!

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Glitch

At six o'clock on Friday evening, Gordon tapped gently on Rachel's office door. Everyone else had left at four o'clock, but Rachel was still trying to catch up on the five weeks' worth of work she had missed and so had stayed until six every night for the last two weeks. She was almost up to date with herself, and was just about to get her jacket and leave. If she was honest she thought that the more she threw herself into her work, the less she'd remember that Gordon was even there. The fact he was stood in her office doorway with his tie loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and some rather obvious five o'clock shadow stubbling his finely sculpted jaw, really didn't help her to forget him.

"You still here?" she asked, nonchalantly.

"Just leaving," he said. She nodded but didn't reply. "It's, umm... been eventful," he added, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing his hands over his face wearily.

"That's an understatement!" she answered with a chuckle. There was an uncomfortable pause while one of them tried to think of something clever or witty to say, without success.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then," Gordon said, finally breaking the silence. Rachel nodded and pursed her lips into a rueful smile.

"I suppose so. You know how good we are at really meaning goodbye, though. I'll probably see you next week," she joked. He grinned and let out a breath of laughter.

"Be good."

"Fly safe."

Rachel watched him walk towards the door at the other end of the office. She didn't know what possessed her, but she knew she wasn't quite ready to let him go just yet. He had been floating around her office for two whole weeks looking and smelling practically edible and she wasn't going to let him just say goodbye and walk out of her life again without having one last night with him. Soon she'd feel too pregnant, and then she'd have two children to run around after and she'd be too exhausted. This was her one final chance to be with him completely, her one final chance to do something utterly selfish that she'd absolutely regret in the morning.

"Gordon?" she called, standing up and leaning against the door jamb. He turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Are you, umm... are you leaving tonight?" she asked, feeling terribly awkward and blushing furiously. This was one of the worst ideas she had ever had, and she hated the idea of having to actually beg, but she knew that she'd still do it if it came down to that.

"Tomorrow morning," he said. Her stomach turned over and then turned back the other way as she plucked up the courage to say her next sentence.

"Stay with me," she said. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard as she forced herself to look up at him. He bit his lower lip and thought about it for a few moments before shaking his head slowly.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, do you?" he asked. She lowered her gaze to the floor and let her shoulders drop.

"No, I don't," she agreed. "So stay with me anyway," she said, looking back up at him, her eyes burning with desire. "Please."

"Rach, we talked about this. You know this isn't going to work."

"I know. I know we can't be together. I understand that. But just because we can't be together after you go home doesn't mean we shouldn't be together right now. Let's not pretend we don't want each other," she said. She could see Gordon was faltering. "I know this is stupid. I'm being ridiculous. I'm sorry. Forget it."

She counted to ten in her head and only reached three before Gordon spoke.

"I don't think it's stupid," he said. He held his hand out to her. "You want to come back to my place?" he offered, his cheeks dimpling as a lop-sided smirk spread across his face. She beamed at him, switched her office light off and closed the door behind her. She walked across the open plan office and grabbed his outstretched hand.

"Damn right I do," she answered. She pulled him close to her by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him softly on the lips. "I can't wait for this," she whispered just behind his ear. He giggled dirtily and kissed her deeply.

"I'm gonna spend the entire journey home teaching you about delayed gratification," he decided, his eyes gleaming.

The following morning Rachel woke before Gordon, for what she was sure was the first time ever. She sat up slowly and carefully, trying not to wake him up. Looking at the time on her phone, she saw that it was just after six o'clock. She could do one of two things. She could wait until Gordon woke up and have an emotional goodbye, or sneak out before he woke up and avoid a goodbye altogether. Neither option seemed especially palatable. Glancing back down at him, she couldn't help but smile at the way his copper-coloured hair had mussed itself up during his sleep.

"You shouldn't watch me sleep, y'know, it's creepy," he mumbled.

"I wasn't," she answered. "Besides, I was actually just debating whether or not I should sneak out without waking you."

"I sleep like a ninja. One eye open," he said, opening one eye and grinning up at her. She giggled. "Anyway, why would you want to do something stupid like sneak out on me?" he asked, pulling her back down into a warm and cosy embrace. "This is much better, right?"

"You make a valid point," she agreed, kissing his chest lightly as she snuggled into him. "What time's your flight?"

"Eleven-thirty, I think. Taxi's due just after eight," he said.

"I should go and let you come round in peace."

"You don't have to go."

"If I stay too much longer I'll only come up with an excuse for you to stay. You've got the whole world to save, you don't need me adding to your stress," she answered.

"I'd rather have you than the whole world. I don't want you to go," he said, tightening his grip on her. She smiled and kissed his chest again.

"I don't either," she admitted. "But I'd best go before it gets too difficult." With great willpower, she untangled herself from Gordon's arms and got out of bed. She ran her fingers through her hair, hoping in vain that it would make her look a little less dishevelled. "I suppose I'd best kiss you," she said, smiling benignly at him. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her towards him by her hips.

"Now, listen," he said to her stomach, stroking the front of her skirt softly. "I'm kinda glad you'll never remember last night - and if you do I'm really sorry, but your Mom is one hot piece of ass," he said. Rachel let out a shout of laughter. "You take care of your Mom for me, okay? I promise I'll come visit you one day soon for a real hug. I love you," he whispered, kissing her stomach gently. Rachel knelt down beside him, cupped his face in her hands and kissed his lips softly.

"Fly safe," she said. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her so tightly she thought she might break in half.

"Be good," he answered, his voice cracking slightly. She gulped and shook her head. Wordlessly, she got up and opened the door - and with a grin and wave of her hand, she had gone.

An hour later, Rachel stumbled through her front door, looking exhausted. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smudged all over her face and she ached everywhere. She wasn't at all surprised to see Mark sat on her couch. He jumped up when the door shut behind her with a loud click.

"And where the hell have you been?" he asked, tapping his foot expectantly and crossing his arms like an angry father who had caught his teenage daughter sneaking home at three in the morning.

"The Hilton in Paddington," she answered. "Gordon invited me for a drink after work."

"I hope you two are back together."

"We aren't, actually," she answered, throwing her handbag on the floor and falling into the armchair opposite Mark. His eyes almost bulged out of his head in surprise.

"What?"

"We agreed, we have our own commitments. It won't work."

"Your own commitments? You love him! You stayed at his hotel last night!" Mark protested. Rachel nodded. "You didn't come home last night, I had to have takeaway and wine on my own! You're having his little ginger babies!"

"I said we aren't back together - I didn't say I didn't give him a damn good seeing to last night!" she said, her eyes twinkling. "I can't stand it, I can't even think about him without wanting to fuck him. I think it's hormones. It's got to be hormones. This is ridiculous. I'm doing my own head in!"

"It must be hormones, normally you just smile coyly at me and tell me you've had a nice time," Mark said, feeling a little queasy.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it. He's just... ugh. And he is stupendously good at-"

"Rachel!" Mark interrupted, placing his hands over his ears in protest.

"Yes! He is stupendously good at me!" she agreed, giggling at Mark's disgusted face. "Don't judge. It would've been rude not to, it was his last night here!"

"You're really both fine with not being together?"

"Yeah. Yeah I think we'll be absolutely fine."

"Forgive me if I'm a little doubtful on that score," Mark answered.

"It's not going to be easy, but we've agreed it's for the best," Rachel said. "Besides, where would we live? He can't come and live in London, he's got work commitments - and I'm not moving out there!"

"You're not moving out there? No, why would you want to? I suppose when I think about it, you'd absolutely hate living on a paradise island with no financial worries and a veritable stallion of a man to worship the ground you walk on," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I wouldn't have you dropping in all the time if I lived over there," Rachel said, smiling sweetly at him. Mark let out a snort of derision.

"Rachel. I love you like a sister. But trust me, if the opportunity ever arose for me to run away with someone like Gordon - and are you sure he doesn't have a gay brother?!"

"I did ask. I'm sorry," she answered, shaking her head. "You'd definitely try your luck with Virgil or John, though."

"Back to the point. If Gordon did have a gay brother and the opportunity came up for us to live happily ever after - you wouldn't figure in my plans at all. I'd just trust you'd be happy for me and would come and visit whenever you wanted to," Mark told her. She shrugged and nodded.

"I know. But honestly. This is what we've agreed. Look at me - no tears, no pathetic moping about the flat in my pyjamas. I'm happy. He's happy. It's for the best. You need to stop worrying about me. We've got the twins to worry about, now. They're the important things. Now then, can I interest you in a cup of tea?" she asked, standing up and heading to the kitchen.

"I hope you two know what you're doing," Mark muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. If only he could have got hold of those two and bashed their thick heads together!

The following few months passed without any major event. Rachel got more and more pregnant, she was constantly uncomfortable and barely slept at night, especially if one twin decided to kick against her bladder and one decided to lie next to her sciatic nerve. They were soon dubbed The Rascals or, when Rachel had finally lost patience with them using her internal organs as punchbags, The Little Sods.

Mrs Tracy and Tin-Tin both arranged for large care packages of toiletries and expensive chocolates to be sent to Rachel on a regular basis, just to let her know they were still thinking of her. Rachel kept all of the accompanying cards and read them to the twins, telling them that 'Auntie Tin-Tin and Great-Grandma' had sent them big hugs and kisses, but they'd have to wait a while until she could pass them on. She would kiss her fingertips, rub her ever-growing belly and tell them that that was the best she could do in the meantime.

Occasionally, a bouquet of brightly coloured gerberas would arrive at the door, with a card that said 'All of me misses you'. She would smile, carefully place the card in the back of her wallet and look at it at various intervals through the course of the following few days. Even though she wasn't officially a Tracy, she was in no doubt that they certainly felt she was a permanent fixture in their lives, especially as she got closer to giving birth. Tin-Tin had initially offered to come and stay with Rachel for the birth, but as Rachel felt uncomfortable enough about giving birth, she decided that she would probably find it less stressful just to allow the hospital to take care of her. They had compromised and agreed that Tin-Tin would come and help redecorate Rachel's room as a nursery for the twins during Rachel's eighth month.

The pressures at work hadn't mounted, but they hadn't diminished either, and Rachel couldn't help but wish she had decided to take an early maternity leave rather than wait until two weeks before her due date. One morning, she had just about managed to drag herself into the office, after a particularly trying two hours of failed attempts to get ready, where she was greeted by a very excited Brian.

"Guess what we're doing today!" he declared. "I've got it all sorted, it should have been a surprise but I can't wait so I'm telling you now!"

"What?" she asked. Brian's enthusiasm was always infectious, so she felt quite giddy already and she had no idea what was going on.

"We're having our big meeting at the bottom of the sea!" he told her, beaming. Rachel's face fell. "What? It's a great idea. They can only lend us one for an hour, but that'll be long enough. The fleet's going through routine maintenance so they're letting us have one before they need to give it a service," he said. Rachel raised her left eyebrow.

"Before it's serviced?" she asked.

"It's safe as houses," Brian assured her. Rachel's frown deepened. She was sure she'd feel much safer in an actual house. "We'll only be down there an hour. I thought it'd make a nice change, a bit flash, y'know," he explained. She shook her head.

"I really don't think it's safe, Brian," Rachel told him, doubtfully. "Are you sure a pressurised container at the bottom of the Channel is an appropriate place for me to spend the day?" she asked, resting her hand on her stomach.

"I've spoken to Health and Safety and they think it'll be fine," Brian assured her. Rachel's eyebrows shot up. 'Think' wasn't an especially encouraging word. "Besides, it's only for an hour, what can go wrong?" he asked. Rachel's stomach churned. Famous last words. "You've got to go to Occupational Health at ten o'clock for a blood pressure check and they'll want to monitor the twins' heartbeats and that sort of thing, but as far as they're concerned it's just as safe as flying."

"I don't especially fancy the idea of flying, either," she admitted, frowning. Even before she got on board, she couldn't help but think that this was Brian's worst idea ever.

Just after lunch, Rachel found herself helping some of the senior members of the World Aquanaut Security Patrol onto a rickety old submarine that must have been at least fifty years old. A young cadet had been entrusted with the safety of everyone aboard as part of his first assignment and he looked suitably terrified by the prospect. The intention was to sail to just within the five-mile limit and enjoy the sea views, and then submerge for the meeting itself.

"You sure this is safe, Rachel?" Adrian, the Director of Finance asked, only half-jokingly, his knuckles white as he gripped the rungs of the ladder. Rachel smiled.

"Never mind the sub - I'd worry about the fact I forgot to order tea and coffee!" she said. Adrian laughed and climbed aboard.

The meeting was equally the most boring and most stressful that Rachel had ever attended. The head of Human Resources, Angela Miller, was claustrophobic and spent most of her time trying not to cry. Bizarrely, James Johnson, the Director of Marketing discovered that he was terribly seasick and Rachel spent a considerable amount of time helping wipe up the mess. Eventually, Brian agreed to call the meeting to a halt and rearrange to another day. He refused to admit it may have been a bad idea, instead deciding to focus all the attention on James' seasickness.

He gave the command to surface and Simon, the cadet, nodded his understanding. He flipped a few switches and nothing happened. He looked up and tried to smile reassuringly, but a worried frown took over his features as he continued flipping switches more and more frantically with no effect.

"What's the matter?" Rachel asked, eventually. Simon beckoned her over to him.

"The power's out," he said, quietly. Rachel had to catch her breath. This was not a sentence she ever wanted to hear while she was on a submarine.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means we're stuck. We can't surface without power."

"How come the lights are still working?"

"Different power source. It's the control panel, something must have short circuited," he said. "I can't budge her."

"Well, can you contact Headquarters and tell someone to come and get us, then?"

"Our radio link to Headquarters is shot. I don't know how else to contact them," Simon explained. "I'm not sure what to do. Everything I need to do is through the control panel and the control panel is basically the only thing that doesn't work."

"Okay. Well, let's not panic just yet. We're all okay, nobody's broken a limb or anything and nobody needs urgent attention, so everyone's safe for now," Rachel said soothingly, squeezing Simon's shoulder reassuringly. "How much oxygen do we have?"

"Four hours," Simon answered. Rachel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Can I borrow you for a minute, please, Brian?" she called, smiling calmly. "This isn't your fault. We'll fix this, don't worry," she told Simon, quietly. Brian walked over to where they were stood.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"Nothing. And I don't think anything's going to happen either," Rachel answered.

"What do you mean?"

"Here's the situation. We have four hours of oxygen, no way of contacting Headquarters, and the control panel has short circuited so we can't surface," she explained. Brian's face drained of colour instantly.

"Christ."

"We're stuck and we can't tell anyone we're stuck. I think we should've made sure we got a submarine that wasn't quite this fucking knackered, don't you?" she suggested in a sharp whisper. "Now, because you wanted to do something a bit flash and to show off in front of the managers, we're all screwed. And not in a good way!"

Rachel slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor, her head in her hands. This was not the way she'd pictured dying. It was meant to be more glamorous than this. Not stuck in a submarine at the bottom of the Channel with the acrid scent of someone else's vomit pervading her nostrils.

"Rachel," Brian began. Rachel looked up sharply at him.

"What?"

"You're my secretary. I have told everyone on this submarine that you can work miracles. I don't know what I'd do without you. I need you to fix this. I can't count on anyone else," he said, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Jesus, Brian! What can I do? I'm a secretary, I'm not a bloody magician!" Rachel snapped. "I can't do anything! I'm seven months pregnant, my ankles are swollen, there's no air, what do you want me to do? Breathe on people?!" Suddenly she stopped her tirade as idea occurred to her. "Of course," she whispered, snapping her fingers. "That's it. That's the answer," she muttered.

"What's the answer?" Brian, asked curiously. Rachel ignored him and turned back to Simon.

"Is the radio portable?" she asked. He frowned.

"Why on earth would you want to remove the radio?" he inquired. She shook her head.

"Don't answer a question with a question, it's rude. I'm going to try and contact someone who can help, and I need to do it with nobody else in the room to put me off," she answered. Simon wordlessly unhooked the radio and handed it to her. She nodded her thanks. "I won't be long," she assured everyone. "Brian brought me along in case of an emergency and I'm not about to let him down now," she added with a determined nod.

Locking herself in the head, a place that luckily hadn't been used yet, she opened radio communications, took a deep breath and uttered three words that would potentially save the lives of everybody on board.

"Calling International Rescue."