Author's Note: Hello! This is the mirror story to Breaking Through Rachel's Point of View, which is done from Rachel's point of view. This story will be entirely Tom's point of view. It's not necessary to read one or the other to enjoy each. I hope you enjoy and as always reviews are appreciated! Happy Reading. Dark rolling sea.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Last Ship or any of the characters. I just like the take them out for a spin then put them back.

Breaking Through: Tom's Point of View

CHAPTER ONE

Captain Chandler had retreated to his stateroom. It had been six months since he had learned of Darien's death in Baltimore. He had not taken the time to properly grieve in all that time as he had pushed forward and concentrated on the mission at hand, staying alive long enough to save the world. They had been making progress in disturbing the cure along the eastern seaboard of North and South America and Dr. Scott had been preforming miracles being able to produce the cure while at sea. But tonight, all the months of pushing those feelings of loss down, was coming back to bite him.

His emotions were rolling in every direction, and he was losing the battle of control. He figured it was time, so he retreated to the safety of his cabin, leaving the ship in the capable hands of his XO Mike Slattery. Now as he sat at his desk and attempted to study the charts and weather patterns of the open seas in front of them, he was on the losing side of the emotional battle. Pain and sorrow were holding his heart captive and he thought about his wife. Guilt racked his mind at the fact he was simply a few days late. If only he could have gotten to Baltimore sooner, made faster progress at sea. He knew there was nothing that could have changed this, but he still felt the guilt of not getting there quicker.

He struggled with the guilt that he was not there to protect Darien, and the kids. He was thankful that his father had been there for them. Without his dad who knows what would have happened to his kids, and that thought made his heart constrict. He picked up another chart and stared at it absently, knowing none of the information was reaching his brain. He was struggling to regulate his breathing, his eyes burned as unshed tears sat stiffly in the ducts. He knew he just needed to break down and let it all out, but he was not that kind of man. He was the strong one, the rock, the one that could control all emotion and make the hard decision. He was Captain Thomas W. Chandler, captain of the Nathan James.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his stateroom door. He knew he should get up and answer the door but something in him just wanted to be left alone, and he hesitated. He dropped his eyes to his hands and blinked to work the tears back. He struggled to push the emotions of his thoughts deep down so he could put the mask on and become the stoic Captain Chandler everyone knew well. A second knock came, and then he heard her voice. She was the last person he wanted to see tonight, especially in his state of emotional distraught. Somewhere along the line he had developed strong feelings for a certain female doctor who was not a member of his crew but serving on his ship.

"Captain? I need to speak with you, I have new information," she said. She didn't continue but Tom did force himself to stand from his chair and move over to the locked stateroom door. He drew in a deep breath and reached out and unlocked the door, pulling it open, then turning and walking back to his chair, not saying anything. He didn't trust his voice at this point. He felt another wave of guilt wash over him for the feelings he had for this woman. It felt way too soon to be feeling that way about another woman, especially since he had not properly grieved for his dead wife. Besides, those feelings for Dr. Scott…had started before he knew Darien was dead, and after learning the facts…before Darien was actually dead.

Dr. Scott burst into his stateroom full of energy and excitement. Two of her qualities that had endured her to him in the first place. Tom had retreated to the table and was standing leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. He kept his gaze downward because he was still working hard on emotional control and didn't trust looking at her. Her words were bouncing around the room, but he hadn't registered a single word she had uttered. He was too busy scrolling through his own thoughts of guilt and pain.

"Captain?" she asked. "Are you listening to me?"

Tom worked to regulate his breathing. She had paused. Shit, had she asked him a question? Tom couldn't bring himself to look at her, terrified if he did that the dam would break, and a torrent of emotional wreckage would explode into the room. He wasn't sure he was ready to handle that, especially in front of her.

"Hmmm?" he asked, his eyes staying locked on the floor. She had paused again, and he felt her eyes probing him. He desperately tried to hold back all the pain and guilt that was bouncing around in his head, working laboriously to keep it from showing through his eyes. He could tell it wasn't working. She was reading him like a book. She had pursed her lips and he saw papers float down to the table by him, then she was standing next to him.

Her proximity was making it ever harder to control everything. Then she laid a hand on his bicep, squeezing it lightly. He felt the burn of her touch and a flutter in his stomach. Then the guilt of these reactions run rampant in his brain. He kept his gaze locked on his feet, knowing that he could not make eye contact with her right now. He clenched his jaw a few times trying to bite down the feelings he was experiencing as confusion flooded his mind. How could something that felt so good, also feel so wrong. He closed his eyes tight, trying to hold the tears of pain about losing his wife, the guilt that came with it, from falling. Tom gave his body a small shake as he finally brought his eyes to look at hers. He fought the emotions down and finally found his voice.

"Sorry, you were saying something about a breakthrough?" he said. Rachel's head cocked to the side and her golden-brown eyes locked on his. Desperately trying to keep the storm brewing in his mind out of his eyes, he knew he was most likely failing. It was simply too strong tonight. He saw something filter through her own eyes that intrigued him, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He was sure she didn't return the feelings he was building for her, but maybe he thought. He knew that Tex had been pursuing her since the two of them had been taken hostage on the Vyerni. The same time that Tom had figured out that he himself was falling for the beautiful Dr. Rachel Scott. He pushed those thoughts down.

"Umm, yeah, I was saying that I made a breakthrough in the genetics that we can use to…are you okay?" Rachel said. Tom felt the tension in his neck and rolled it from side to side trying to ease it. The intensity of her stare was starting to crush the dam he had built on his emotional depth charges, so he looked away at the wall. He worked double time to keep his breathing slow and steady. Her hand gripped his bicep again and fire burned up his arm. He felt his muscle flinch and willed himself to maintain control. "Captain?"

"I'm fine," he deadpanned. Holding all his emotional turmoil at bay for a little bit longer. He needed to get her out of this room, and fast. He couldn't hold the line much longer and damn if he was going to break down with her in this room. His whole body was springing with tension. He fought with his cloudy brain and thought of how to quickly get rid of her. "Great news on the breakthrough. I'm sure you'll be able to make everything work. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

There. That should do it. But she didn't move. Damn it. Her hand was still on his arm, the fire it ignited was spreading to places he wished it wouldn't. Maybe under different circumstances, but not today, not right now. He looked at the contact, then his eyes darted back to the safety of the floor. Any minute she'll leave, and I can break down in safety. He knew she was figuring out that he was hiding in his stateroom. He figured she knew there was something deeply troubling him tonight. He was just praying she would leave before he couldn't hold the line anymore. Her hand lifted from his arm and for a brief moment his body coiled and missed the contact. But a moment later he was surprised when that same hand gently cupped his jaw. If the hand on his bicep had sent fire through his system, this touch was a raging inferno. Fuck. He felt his resolve breaking, his defenses melted in the heat of that inferno.

He glanced at her for a brief moment and knew that he wasn't hiding any of the emotions that he was feeling at that exact moment from her. His wall had collapsed, and the dam was about to break away completely. Pain. Turmoil. Fear. Sadness. Those were the four main components raging through him at the moment. He couldn't maintain the contact and keep himself in check, so he quickly looked at the wall.

"Captain," she whispered. "What's the matter?"

A simple question, but it almost completely undid him. Her concern and quietness made him want to confess every last thing he was feeling right then, and he did mean every last thing. But that couldn't happen. No. Not here. Not so soon. Not on his ship. Fraternization was very much against the rules, and even if she wasn't in the Navy, she was still on his ship. And what would the rest of his crew think if the captain, of all people, broke that rule. No, she needed to go, and he needed to break down in the privacy of his stateroom…alone.

"I think it's better if you left me to do my work," he managed to say in a quiet voice. His voice had betrayed him and broke. It sounded like someone else was speaking. If he spoke any louder, the raggedness of his emotions would seep through, and he didn't want that. A lump developed in his throat, and he swallowed several times trying to tamp it down. He closed his eyes to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. Not now. Not in front of her. The storm was building beyond his control, but she was not leaving. "Please."

He hated the pleading sound of his voice. His strength was wanning, and he wanted to collapse on his couch and sink into the despair that was enveloping him. Why wouldn't she just leave?

"Tom," she said softly. He flinched as her use of his first name damn near broke him completely. She had never used it, had always called him Captain. He liked the way it sounded coming from her lips so softly. He couldn't stop his eyes from darting to her own, then he had to move them back to the wall. Too much was exposed right now. Her hand dropped from his jaw, and he felt a coldness rush his body. His face tilted down, his eyes locking on his shoes again. The lump was bigger in his throat now, and he swallowed some more trying desperately to dislodge it. The burning in his eyes was overwhelming and he knew he couldn't stop the tears from falling now. One slipped down his cheek.

"Just let me work, please," he managed to grind out, his voice so tight it was barely audible.

"You can talk to me," she said so gently. She paused. Standing there staring at him. His brain was muddy, foggy, cluttered. He knew he needed to let all his feelings out, he needed to grieve, he needed to breathe again. Maybe doing all this in private wasn't the right way to go about it. And who else on this ship could he trust to let it all go with? In this state of emotional unrest and mental breakdown there was no one in his crew he would go to. She was nodding at him now, both silent. She stepped around him to head for the door. Finally, she was leaving just like he wanted. But was that really how he felt? Her hand grazed against him and ignited that inferno again for just a moment. No. He didn't want her to leave. Not really. He wanted to…he wanted her to stay.

She was almost to the door now and he reached out and gently closed his large hand around her small delicate wrist, giving her a slight tug. She stopped moving and looked down at the contact he had initiated between them. Then the dam broke.

"My wife is dead," he whispered, his voice hoarse and thick. He didn't say anymore or move. She seemed unsure of how to proceed after his admission. Then he couldn't stop the sob that heaved from his midsection. All the guilt, pain, and sorrow, slammed through is system and more sobs started forming. Tears ran down his cheeks unchecked.

Rachel pulled her wrist free from his loose grasp, then turned and came up in front of him. Her hand darted up and gripped the back of his head, pulling it down, laying his cheek flat against her chest. Her other arm stroked gently up and down his shoulder. The contact sparked inside him, and he felt himself let go of every emotion and let the sobs overtake him. Tom wrapped his arms loosely around her midsection and sank into her, falling deeper into the turmoil inside him. He cried for Darien, he cried for his guilt. He cried for his losses on his ship.

Tom had no idea how long the sobs had wracked his body but once they had died down, he made no move to break the contact with Dr. Scott. Rachel, his brain corrected. He was rather enjoying being in the good doctor's embrace, her head had at some point come down on the top of his. A tornado of feelings flooded his system and he found himself conflicted. When had his feelings for this woman become so deep? Then the guilt swamped his system, how could he have fallen for her when Darien was still alive. Fallen for her? His brain was reeling from this admission. Time was stretching and Tom was starting to feel self-conscious about the deluge of emotion he had just thrust upon Dr. Scott. Yes, brain Dr. Scott. Boundaries must stay in place.

"Sorry," he mumbled against her chest.

"You have no reason to be," she whispered as her mouth lowered next to his ear. When her breathed raked against his skin he felt heat coil in his loin, and he knew he needed to break the contact. He dropped his arms and stood up. Rachel dropped her hands to her side and took a step back from him. He was grateful for that move. He took a moment and smashed the feelings brewing in his stomach. Exhaustion washed over him, and he slumped down in the chair at his desk. Rachel hesitated a moment before taking the chair next to him. He sat for a long time, slumped down, trying to work through everything running rampant in his mind. He was thankful that Rachel seemed to understand he needed some time, as she sat quietly with her elbows on her knees. Tom finally broke the silence.

"I hadn't allowed myself to grieve. I've pushed for the mission," Tom said, his voice sounding more gravelly than usual to him. "But it was catching up with me. Tonight…"

"The dam broke," Rachel finished softly. He finally found the courage to look at her, and a tight smile crossed his lips. He felt defensive when she returned it was a sad smile of her own.

"I'm not looking for pity," Tom said quietly. She cocked her head to the side and her eyebrows knitted together. A wave of affection washed through him. He pushed it down.

"I wasn't offering you pity. It genuinely pains me to see you like this," she offered. Tom locked eyes with her to see if she truly meant what she had just said, and he was a little surprised by what he saw staring back at him. Could it be that she shared his feelings about her, for him? He contemplated what he was seeing and wondered just how deep Rachel Scott's feelings for him ran. He couldn't hold her gaze anymore and looked away. His mind returned to Darien, and he started to talk about his life with her. He didn't know why, but it felt natural to discuss it with Rachel. Yes. Rachel.

Rachel settled back into the chair as he spoke. Several hours passed as Tom let the memories and the grieve wash over him. Rachel had shared with him some of her past and he found himself enjoying getting to know more about her and sharing his past life with her. The pain and sorrow were leaving his system, but the guilt was still raw and hard on the surface. He never should have fallen in love with her when he did. The admission shocked him, but the more he thought about it while they were talking the more, he was sure. After she had kissed him on the Vyerni, his feelings for the good doctor had manifested, and in the time since, had only grown stronger and deeper.

Somewhere along the way he noticed Rachel's relaxed and open manner was starting to fray and she was starting to pull away from him. He wondered what had manifested the change but wasn't about to broach the subject with her. He knew it was growing late.

"I've taken enough of your time tonight," he said quietly, as he rose to his feet from the chair. "Thank you for…everything." And he meant it.

Rachel stood from her chair and smiled at him. He was tempted to step into her and kiss her but then the guilt flooded his system again and he turned away from her and headed for the door. Once he reached it, he stepped to the side and allowed Rachel to come up next to him. He opened the door and watched as she walked past him.

"Good night," Rachel said as she went through the doorway. He had an overwhelming urge to touch her before she left and his hand snaked out, landing gently on her shoulder as she was one step out his door. She turned her head back towards him.

"Good night, Rachel, I appreciate our friendship," he managed to say, his throat tight with nervousness. A tight smile was on his lips, and his cheeks burned. He was afraid there was a blush there. Rachel smiled at him, causing his heart to flutter, then she turned and walked off, presumably towards her lab.

To Be Continued…