Author's Notes: Apologies for the delay in updating. Real life under Covid-19 got a bit in the way. We hope all of you are doing well and good. Enjoy this romantic and fluffy chapter


Chapter 15 - Welcome Back

"I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine."

When she thinks of Tom, she has more questions than answers. This very strong feeling of connection that she felt with him is not only physical attraction, but also something more… She'd tried. Oh, she had tried so hard. She pushed him away, but the man is too stubborn to give up..

She wanted him to be here now. She wanted the safety of his arms. Some of her memories found their way to the surface, making her feel restless.

"Can't sleep?" Jeter asked her.

It was not the first time that he found her sitting in that old armchair, a steaming cup in her hands, her eyes turned to the contours of the dimly lit garden.

"I can't calm my mind enough to sleep."

"Worried about him?"

"It's not just him who keeps me awake," she said offering him a weak smile.

"Did you dream again?" he asks, more as a statement than a question.

A few weeks ago, she had trusted him, telling him about the dream, the maze, the door that she couldn't open.

After taking a sip of her tea, she answered, "Yes, I feel that I am closer to discovering the truth."

"Did you manage to open the door?"

"Not this door, but I managed to open another one," she said.

"I thought there was only one."

"The door to other memories," she clarified. "I remembered my parents."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked as he sat across from her.

"My mother died when I was a child." Her fingers curled around the warm cup. "The first memory I had of my mother was in a coffin. And the memories that came after were no better."

She was reliving mourning. Nothing he could say would ease her pain, but that didn't stop him from trying. "There must be fond memories of your mother in your memories."

"Yes, there are." Her eyes took on a misty, faraway look. "But in the end everything else became smaller in the face of my parents' beliefs."

Her shrug and tone were nonchalant, suggesting acceptance of a fact, but her eyes told a different story.

He didn't have enough information to have a complete picture of what had happened to her. But whatever had happened had left a lasting mark. Her parents hurt her or at least it was her perception. Something she still seemed to struggle to cope with.

Before he could say anything, she continued, "Malaria is a curable disease if treated correctly." She forces her voice to remain soft. "He did not allow her to receive treatment."

"Who?"

"Her husband….Reverend Stephen Scott is… was my father."

The pieces of the puzzle fit together with surprising clarity. The mother's death can be a severe blow to any child. The feeling of abandonment can be difficult to deal with. But having a safe and affectionate family environment can ease this blow. But apparently she felt abandoned and betrayed by both.

"Was?"

"I think he's dead now, but I'm not sure, "she said, "I've had very little contact, personal contact with him over the years. And what do I know about the pandemic…"

Softly he asked, "Do you blame him?"

"There were times when I wished him dead and then there were times when I just wanted my dad back. Sometimes I just wish I could talk to him. But that was impossible. He was no longer the same, and neither am I his little girl anymore."

She had moved away from her father both physically and emotionally.

"What would you say to him if you could talk to him?"

"I don't know, "she paused. "It was painful to be around him… but despite everything he was still my father."

"What is the best memory you have of him?"

"There are not many," she said.

"Try, please, just one," he said in a kind, almost fatherly voice.

She felt tears constrict her throat and she swallowed painfully. She doesn't just remember one, she has all those precious little things between father and daughter kept in memory.

She stood and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, helping herself to another cup of warm tea. She cradled her cup of tea between her hands, allowing the soothing scent to help center her thoughts and relax her nerves. Then she snuggled back into the comfortable armchair.

He waited until she took a sip of her tea to speak again.

"I'm sorry."

"You have a kind soul, Russ Jeter," she said, depositing the cup on the small table next to her armchair. "Some memories I have of him hurt not because they are bad, but because they are good… I don't know if I'm making any sense…."

Weeks after the death of his wife and daughters, he could not bear to look at the family photos.

"It makes perfect sense."

"He…. my father was a good storyteller. He did all the voices, you know, animals and monsters and things like that…"

He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"He always ended up the same way, sleep well my… it was always a different name… Aziza, Johari, Isoke, Tsehai... it was a kind of a game, I should find out the meaning, it was a way of teaching me because with the names there were always other information."

"Clever." He said. "What do the names mean?"

"Tsehai, Sunshine (Ethiopia). Aziza, Swahili origin meaning powerful and beloved. The meaning of the name Isoke is a satisfying gift from God (Nigeria). Johari means Jewel and is of Swahili origin."

"He loved you."

"I know." Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, feeling somewhat better, somewhat relieved.

"I love Tom, but I didn't tell him, although I think he knows,"she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings. Walls and thorns could not completely hide the soft heart kept inside.

"You are afraid," he said.

"Yes, I'm afraid, because I feel that what I need to remember is what separates me from him."

Looking at the mug in her hands, she didn't see the sudden strain in his face.

Her instincts were good. Her fear had a solid basis, although she didn't remember why. The death of a man had created an abyss between them. The love the two admitted to feeling had built a bridge between them again. He prayed it would be enough.

"Tom won't give up on you again."

"Again?"

"You came back from the dead, giving him a second chance. He knows you love horses couldn't keep him away."

She smiled.

"I hope he's okay," she murmured.

"He is able to take care of himself and he's not alone."

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It was a lazy Sunday morning. Trying to stop the constant stream of worries through her head, she decided that a run around the block could help her. After completing the third lap, she met Sam and Ashley walking their puppy.

"Good morning, children," Rachel greeted them.

"Good morning, Rachel," the children said in unison.

"You're both up early."

"Sky wouldn't let us sleep late," Sam said, after a big yawn.

"Grandpa said it's like having an infant at home," Ashley said.

"A very cute baby, aren't you, Sky?" Rachel said as she bent down and scratched the puppy's ears.

Sky barked and wagged his tail happily.

"Dad's back," Sam announced happily.

"When?" Rachel asked, getting up.

"Sam!" Ashley said reproachfully. "You weren't supposed to say anything."

"Oh!" He has that adoringly contrite expression that brings a smile to Rachel's lips.

"Don't tell Dad that I told you," Sam said before running after the dog that was entering the neighbor's garden.

Ashley looked at her brother, shaking her head, a slightly exasperated expression.

She turned back to Rachel. "Grandpa said Dad wanted to surprise you."

"I'll try to look properly surprised," Rachel replies, a small smile blooming on her face. He kept his promise. He went back to her. She had a promise to keep, too. Would she be brave enough to say in words what she has already said in other ways?

"How is he?"

"He arrived late at night; we haven't talked to him yet and…"

"He brought a girl with him." Sam said interrupting the sister, holding the squirming puppy wriggling in his arms. "They are sleeping, so we have to be quiet. Grandpa sent us for a walk with the dog."

Not a girl, a woman, she corrected in thought. Veronica, his first love. She felt a twinge of jealousy.

"We must go back now," Ashley said and they both bid Rachel goodbye.

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Rachel has just finished dressing up after her quick shower when she heard a knock on the front door. With happiness suffusing her being, she felt like a giddy teenager with her date arriving. She knew it was most likely that Tom had come calling.

And she was not disappointed.

A bearded Tom in his BDUs, with a basket in one hand, was smiling at her.

There was a smirk on Tom's face, as she looked him up and down. She reached out to inspect a wound on his head, it didn't look serious, but she didn't like it anyway.

"You're injured!"

"Just a scratch."

"What did we talk about scratches?"

"Hey, I'm whole, with all parts of my body intact, "he said opening his arms to her.

"There is no hidden injury that I need to worry about right?" she asked with a frown.

He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into him. "Hmm," he whispered. "I can prove that I am perfectly healthy." Rachel's heart fluttered and she couldn't help but smile. Then his other hand came up and his fingers tangled in her hair tilting her face to meet his kiss.

She responded hungrily, her lips opening for more, her body melted against him as he moaned her name and deepened the kiss.

Eventually he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, "I missed you so much," he whispered raggedly, his blue eyes focused on her.

"I missed you, too," she said. "Welcome home, Captain!"

He smiled.

In her lips, his rank assumed another meaning, something more intimate. She says 'Captain' with the softness of a lover.

"What is it?" she asked with a cute frown.

"You called me Captain. Again."

"Is that a problem?"

"On the contrary, I like it."

We'll discuss this topic later, she promised herself, determined to decipher the reason behind his strangely smug expression.

Rachel looked at the basket that Tom had brought with him. "What's that?"

"I figured that we'd have breakfast together before I head towards HQ. And if I know you, you haven't had breakfast yet, have you? Food's still warm."

"No, you're right. No breakfast yet. Let's go sit down.

While Rachel went to the kitchen to gather their cutleries, Tom had taken out cheese, toasts, eggs, ham, spreads and grapes at the center table near the sofa.

Tom was eating grapes that Rachel fed him. They had finished their breakfast and Rachel was almost lying with her back on Tom's chest. Enjoying being back in each other's arms. Tom alternated between caressing her arms and thighs and kissing her neck. Currently, she was giggling while he was bestowing kisses on her neck.

"What's so funny?" he whispered.

Rachel reached out to him and caressed his beard-covered jaw and neck.

"Your beard. You didn't shave."

"Well, a beautiful doctor told me that she has a scientific curiosity to satisfy with my beard… I held off the razor while I was on mission…"

Rachel sat up and pivoted towards him. Sitting fully on his lap. He groaned as she held his face. She nuzzled up to him.

"I wanted to know how your beard would feel on my skin….." she confessed to him. "It looks so sexy on you and I love how it prickles my skin."

Tom growled and hauled her up to him for a fiery kiss. He ground Rachel on his lap. She can feel his growing hardness under her. Making her want to gyrate on him. She tore her mouth away from his but Tom continued his kisses on her neck. She yelped as she felt his hands on her breasts. Caressing them and their turgid peaks.

"Tom…" she moaned, "We can't...Beatrise's still upstairs..she might come down any time…" she put her hands on his chest to put some space between them.

He stilled with a long groan while holding her tightly in his arms. After a while, he put back his head on the sofa and tried to calm his raging libido. Rachel placed her head on his chest and her hand making soft strokes on his chest. "I'm sorry…" she apologized to Tom.

He placed a kiss on her head, "Ssshhh…. You have nothing to be sorry for… You know that I want you so much. Our current arrangement leaves much to be desired. And I have always told you that I will not give up having you in my arms."

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"How was your mission?" she asked after a few minutes of quiet between them.

His relaxed expression is replaced by tiredness and worry.

"Good and… bad."

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up to face him.

"Mike's family was there."

"Commander Slattery must be very happy."

"Things are not so simple; they lost a child to the pandemic. Christine, his wife, blames him for not being there when it happened."

"There is something more worrying you," she said gently.

Despite their efforts, people were still dying because of the pandemic. The assembled structure was not enough, vaccines were not getting where they were supposed to. The disorganization of planting, harvesting and transporting food were leaving people vulnerable to hunger. And in this chaos enemies were finding fertile ground to reproduce.

The Immunes were a bigger threat than they imagined. The intel that Veronica had provided told them that he and Rachel had a target painted on the back. It wasn't information he wanted her to know, eventually he would tell her, but not now. Now he just wanted to enjoy the feeling of having her in his arms again.

She waited while he seemed to struggle to find the right words to externalize what was bothering him.

"What we did is still not enough; people are dying because of the pandemic."

"Ah!" She says as if she understands his frustration. "That is expected with humanity on the verge of extinction, this would awaken the best in us. And I do not say that it is not correct in some cases, but the social inequality present in practically all countries kills the most vulnerable first."

"I know," he said, "But it's still frustrating as hell."

"The world is not going to change because of the pandemic, Tom. People are still going to die because of lack of clean water, food, shelter, wars, religious fanatics; the greatest plague in the world is us."

"Pessimistic."

"Realist," she countered.

He raised his hands in surrender, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

She sighed.

"Sorry," she said, "you didn't ask for a debate."

"Your diplomatic skills leave much to be desired." His words brought a strange feeling of déjà vu. "But…" he said with a smile in the low drawl of his voice. "I like your passion when defending something. It was one of the reasons that I was attracted to you."

"I wonder what attracted me to you, before."

He had a playful smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, that is a question that only you can answer, honey."

Rachel's expression turned thoughtful. She was absently stroking her fingertips in circles on his forearm. She loved this man so much that she feared the enormity of that feeling. She'd give anything and everything to keep him safe. Did your mother love your father like that, as if she had waited for him all her life?

"I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine," Rachel whispers under her breath.

"Hmm?"

"It was something my mother said to my father."

"Where did I hear that before?"

"Song of Solomon 2:16."

"Wait! Does that mean you remembered your parents?"

"I remembered my childhood."

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He knew it was inevitable that some pain would accompany her memories.

"I was a little shaken by the experience," she admitted.

His arms enveloped her. She buried her face against his chest, accepting the comfort his arms offered. He ran his fingers over her hair, feeling her relax against him.

The times she had remembered something, there was always a kind of trigger. The visit to the cemetery, the music sung by Alisha, the car accident.

"What was the trigger this time?"

"Your mission," she said. "I was worried that you might get hurt." Fear that you could be taken from me. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and blinked against the tears so close to the surface. Damn it, she wasn't a woman who cried at anything and everything. But the thought of him dying fills her with anguish.

"I remembered my mother in a coffin," she said, her voice muffled.

"Jesus!" He said, hugging her tighter and kissing her forehead. Then he lifted her face to meet his solemn gaze. "I will always come back for you, I promise."

She believed him. She believed in the love she saw in his eyes. She believed that he would do whatever it takes so he could to keep his promise. Some say that love can make a person reckless; I prefer to believe that it makes us brave, her mother used to say.

Be brave, dear.

He watched with avid interest, as she seemed to struggle with something, then she smiled at him, and somehow he knew she had come to a decision. Decision that would take their relationship to the next level.

"Good. Because I'm not willing to give up the man I love," she said, enunciating every syllable.

Surprise filled his eyes at her words, a slow smile spreading over his face. She had already given clues to how she felt about him. But hearing her say it was something totally different. He traced the contours of her face with his fingers, as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

"I love you, too," he whispered to her.

"I know," she pressed a quick, soft kiss on his mouth.

He chuckled.

He angled his head and covered her mouth with his as she grabbed the front of his uniform, tugging him closer.

Then they were surprised by a knock on the door.

She made an incoherent protest as he whispered against her hair. "I'm going to kill the bastard, slowly."

Although she did not consider herself a publicly demonstrative person, with him it was becoming a habit. It was becoming ridiculous the times when they had been caught in a compromising situation. They are acting like two teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other. When she thinks about it, there is a strange sense of pride that she is able to make him lose control so easily. The problem is that it had the same effect on her.

Another loud knock on the door indicated that the person outside was getting impatient.

"You will not kill anyone," she said, pressed her palms against Tom's chest, pushing him back while she disengaged herself from his arms and stood up.

"Don't be so sure," she thought she heard him whisper

He also stood up but he didn't look happy. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"No."

Jeter, Wolf and Miller had left shortly after she returned home. Bertrise was still in bed.

She opened the door with him hovering protectively behind her.

"Veronica! What are you doing here?"

Veronica had to admit she was curious. Curious about Dr. Rachel Scott. The woman who saved the world. But she has a perfectly valid excuse for showing up uninvited.

"Good morning to you, too, Tom," the beautiful brunette replied ironically.

So this is Veronica. He had not exaggerated; she was a very beautiful woman. She was tall, with almond-brown eyes, curly hair below her shoulders. And when she smiled. The woman had dimples.

Tom gave Rachel a long-suffering look. "Rachel, this is my friend Veronica Gillard."

"Nice meet you," Rachel said. She offered her hand which the other woman took enthusiastically.

"It's so nice to finally meet you. Tom here does not talk of anything else. Even asleep he speaks your name."

Two things simultaneously registered in Rachel's brain, that he spoke of her while sleeping and that Veronica was close enough to hear. She cut that line of thought quickly. When they are alone, she will interrogate him for explanation.

Tom and Rachel took a seat on the sofa while Veronica occupied the other armchair.

"He also talked about you, said something about you looking like an angel when he first saw you."

"The man always had a way with words," Veronica said with a smile.

Tom could see an alliance forming between the two women and he did not know if that made him happy or worried.

"Why did you come looking for me?" he asked.

"The meeting with the president was scheduled, and you didn't bring your phone."

"Shit!" He patted his pockets for his phone, and then remembered he had left it on the kitchen counter, after practically swallowing a cup of coffee that his father had forced him to drink.

Veronica had one of those magnetic personalities, a sincerity in the look, a contagious smile, it was impossible not to like her.

"You didn't forget the gun, right?"

He shook his head in agreement with her.

She asked casually, but something in the look they exchanged warned Rachel. There's something going on.

"Why do you need to be armed here?"

"Precaution."

"Please, Tom, don't lie to me," she said, " I don't like the role of a damsel in distress."

"Believe me, I am well aware of that," he said, remembering when she helped save him from the hands of the Russians. Talk about role reversal.

"She has a right to know, Tom."

"Tom!" Rachel pressed him.

He reluctantly offered the information. "We found out why the Immunes kidnapped you."

"It was never a secret. They wanted to kill me."

"No, they would forge your death, so no one would look for you." Veronica corrected her, "And then they would force you to reverse the process."

"When hell freezes over will I do something for those assholes."

"There are ways to make someone give in."

"The torture didn't work the first time."

Anger builds up in him, clouding his features.

They had lost the element of surprise. The goal now was to kidnap the two. And use the love she felt for Tom to make her give in.

"I'm surrounded by soldiers, all ready to fight. Everyone is saying I'm safe here."

"You are," Tom said, his hands resting on her shoulders.

Veronica was watching her carefully now. "It's not enough, isn't it?" she asked her.

Rachel shook her head. She hated leaving someone else in control, even if that person was Tom. "No. It's not enough. I need to be able to protect myself; I need to learn to fight."

"I can help you with that," she volunteered with a smile.

"I would like that."

"I can help, too," said Tom.

"Good, let them come." Rachel said, "They will regret leaving the hell they came from."

Veronica smiled. Tom has always been attracted to strong women. It looks like he hasn't changed.

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Tom promised Veronica that he will join the scheduled meeting later with the President. Rachel got ready to leave for the medical center. Tom will drive her there himself.

"Honey, with the intel that we gathered from the Immunes from Veronica, you will have your usual bodyguards with you. Two at the minimum with about 4 others keeping a perimeter cover," Tom explained, "We….I cannot afford anything happening to you again."

"But, Tom…" Rachel started to protest, "Isn't that too much? This base is safe and secure...you told me as such…"

"Rach, honey, that is generally true. But I do not like to take chances with your safety or your life. I trust my men and women from the James, but the other personnel in this base are unknown to me. So, please, bear with me on this one." He gathered her in his arms, swaying them from side to side.

She sighed as she wrapped her arms around him. "You really have to start training me."

This time it was him who sighed. "Yes, that seems to be inevitable. We can start later today for you to handle a gun and shoot. With your brilliance, you'll have that down to a pat in no time at all."

She looked up at him with a small smile. "Veronica and Alisha can probably teach me self-defense moves and how to strengthen myself."

Tom looked at her with something like pride in his eyes. He also smiled at her offer.

"And Tex…"

He frowned deeply at her, "Tex? What has he got to do with your training? I can teach you everything," he groused.

"Are you jealous?" she teased.

"Me? Why the hell will I feel jealous over Tex?" he exclaimed, defending himself.

"Well, you have to explain to me why Veronica heard you talking in your sleep and mentioning my name? Care to explain that?" she asked archly, with her arms folded in front of her.

Tom immediately put up both his hands in front of him in a gesture of surrender. "Nothing happened, honey! I swear! We arrived late last night and accommodations for Veronica were not yet ready. I offered her my bed…"

"Do you make it a habit to offer your bed to every woman you take home with you?" she cut him, giving him a gimlet eye.

"No! Of course, not!" he exclaimed in alarm. "Honey, you're the first woman who has slept on my bed in my house! Veronica refused my bed and instead settled on the sofa. I couldn't convince her otherwise. Ask my Dad if you don't believe me."

Rachel felt satisfaction at his explanation. But she continued with her gimlet eye at him.

"So how did she know that you spoke my name in your sleep?"

Tom swallowed. "I don't know. You have to ask her that yourself."

Rachel remained quiet. Letting him stew a bit more.

"Baby...please believe me, I'd never been with any woman since I met you onboard the James...and now that you've given me a second chance, I will not waste that..you're everything to me. I love you, so much!" Tom pleaded with her.

Rachel smiled at him and moved to his arms. Her arms went around his neck.

"I love you, too, my Captain!" she whispered. "I believe you. We'll ask Veronica together that question. I was letting you stew a bit…."

"You minx!" Tom whispered with a smile, bringing her closer and kissing her softly.

"I had to make sure, you know. You being away on a mission to meet with your first love….who knows what could have happened…"

"First crush, honey. Just a childhood crush..and you needn't have worried. Veronica only sees me as a friend."

After sharing a few more kisses and locking up, they headed out towards the base's center.

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