Author's note: Chapter two for your reading pleasure! Hope you are enjoying this one. Leave a review on the way out. Happy Reading. Dark rolling sea.

CHAPTER TWO

Tom sat in the wardroom eating his dinner with Mike on his right. It had been a week since he had broken down with Rachel in his stateroom and he had been somewhat avoiding her since. He was trying desperately to work through the emotions that woman evoked inside him, and the resulting guilt he felt every time he let himself feel that way.

"Something on your mind, Captain?" Mike's voice sliced into his reverie. Tom looked up at the other man and took a deep breath. He thought about what he wanted to say.

"Just thinking," Tom replied cryptically. Mike smiled at him and shook his head.

"Well that much was evident," he remarked. "Want to talk about it? Something with the crew?"

"No, it's not the crew," Tom replied rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. No, it was much more personal than that, he thought.

"How did you work through your grief for Lucas?" Tom said suddenly, surprising himself. From the look on Slattery's face, he had surprised him too.

"Um, I guess I just kind of cried for him and threw myself into the mission. It was harder when we came back aboard, and I hadn't found Christine or the girls."

"What helped?"

"This about Darien?" Mike asked softly. Tom thought about his question.

"Yes. Do you have a lot of guilt?" Tom asked quietly.

"Some yes. I wasn't there to help, but then I think…if I was there maybe I'd be dead too. And then I wouldn't be here saving the world."

"That's one way to look at it."

"Have you let yourself grieve for Darien?" Mike asked with his head cocked to the side. Tom thought back to that day a week ago when he had let all the emotions out.

"I have. About a week ago."

"Did it help?"

"Yes, for the pain and sorrow. But the guilt."

"That can eat you up," Mike replied. "Need to find a way to let go of that Captain."

"I know," he replied. The guilt he was feeling wasn't solely not being there to stop what had happened. They finished their meal in silence and then both went their separate ways.

Tom was on the bridge a few days later. His mind was drifting, thinking about Dr. Scott. He allowed his brain to daydream about the possibility of them being together, then the guilt hit him again and he worked to squash it. There was no reason to feel guilty he scolded himself. He sat staring out of the bridge at the open sea oblivious to the environment around him.

"Sir?" Lt. Granderson's voice broke through his daydream. He tilted his head towards her voice.

"Yes?" he asked hoping he didn't miss anything important. She brought his attention back to the task at hand, running a Destroyer. He mentally scolded himself for letting his mind get so distracted.

It had been a solid two weeks since he had had his emotional meltdown with Dr. Scott. It had been about two weeks since he had seen her as well. His mind had been clouded with thoughts of her, as he tried to restrict those to off duty times. Today he felt lighter, as if the guilt wasn't so heavy. He had been evaluating his feelings for her and knew he was in deep. Tom walked to her lab, with the purpose of checking on her progress with the breakthrough. He had basically left her to do her work uninterrupted by him. Not that he understood much of what she told him. As he entered Dr. Scott looked up smiling.

"Captain, what a pleasure," she greeted him. Tom couldn't help but return the smile, it seemed infectious. He moved across the lab and came to a stop next to her.

"I heard you made some progress on getting the cure out faster," he answered her.

"Yes. I'm working on the report to send back to St. Louis. The new cure will be ready when we hit the next port."

"That's great news," he replied, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. A genuine smile etched across his face. An idea popped into his head and his heart was speaking before his brain could stop it. "So, um, I came by, to see if, um…" he stammered. All the sudden he was nervous, and his face felt hot. When did asking a woman to have dinner become so difficult for him?

"What can I do for you, Captain?" She asked in a calming voice.

"Well, I was just wondering if you'd, um, like to have, ah, dinner with me tonight," he finally managed to get out, stumbling over his words. He felt like an idiot, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. Tom absently rubbed the back of his skull, smoothing the short hairs there.

She didn't answer him, and he felt the nervousness increase. Maybe he had misread her before. He was sure he saw what he thought he saw that deep down she had some type of feelings for him. But right now, she was just staring at him, and he was feeling the weight of it. Finally, she spoke, and he felt the weight lift.

"Yes, Captain, I'd like that," she replied, and he felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a genuine full-blown smile.

"Splendid. Around 20 hundred hours? I should be done with official duties by then."

"I look forward to it," she replied, her voice even. Tom stood staring at her for a moment longer, his thoughts intruding. He was worried she was just agreeing to dinner with him because he was the captain. What if he was way off base? The nervousness and guilt swarmed him again and he thought about taking back the invitation, but it was too late now. He turned on his heel and abruptly left the lab.

Tom had finished up his official duties and handed off the watch to Lt. Commander Garnett. He made his way to the wardroom and had the meal delivered there. He sat and waited for Rachel to show up. When she failed to make an appearance on time, he sent a petty officer to her lab with the task of bringing her back. In the time he was waiting for her, he began to have second thoughts about his invitation. The guilt was resurfacing about it being too soon to be feeling about another woman, what he was feeling about Rachel. The fact that his feelings had started before Darien was dead was also a sticky point for him. He felt like he had cheated even though she was gone, and honestly it still stuck in him that he was cheating.

He needed to get himself passed that point if he saw a future with Rachel. The Navy side of his brain also fired up. Fraternization on board the ship was strictly prohibited, and if he was willing to break that rule then why should his crew trust and follow him. Another part of his brain tried to explain that that was the old world, and the new world was going to have new rules. But the old dog of his brain was not learning a new trick.

He heard them coming down the p-way and as the Petty Officer opened the hatch Tom stood from the table. When Rachel stepped through the open doorway she stopped, her eyes traveling the length of him. He felt a charge run through his system.

"Sorry," Rachel breathed out. "I lost track of time working on those reports for the president."

"I figure as much. I sent the petty officer to the lab first," he replied softly. Tom reached out his hand and pointed to a chair. She nodded and walked towards it and took a seat. As she was sitting down Tom looked at the young petty officer. "That'll be all, Petty Officer, thank you."

The young man nodded and left the wardroom shutting the door behind him. The silence in the room was awkward and Tom internally chastised himself for setting up this situation. He should have just kept his mouth shut. Tom realized it was the first time he had been alone with her in the wardroom. All other times they had shared a meal there had been at least one other person in the room with them. He was frustrated with himself as he felt overwhelmed by the nervousness inside him, and he didn't know how to let it go. Then Rachel laughed. Tom was puzzled.

"Something funny?" he asked her, as he settled back against his chair, his plate full of food. He watched as she finished filling her plate. Rachel looked up at him and seemed to be contemplating his question.

"Just trying to loosen the mood, I suppose," she finally replied, glancing down at her plate of food. Tom felt a prickle of defensiveness rise in him, and guilt for trying to make this work. He needed to shut himself off and focus on the mission, keeping her alive so she can cure the world. But her laugh had sounded good to his ears. And she did look amazing sitting in that chair. Again, he was conflicted.

"Didn't know it was too tight," he quipped before he could stop himself. He didn't mean to sound defensive, but he couldn't help it. The nerves and the tension inside him were wreaking havoc on his brain. Rachel laughed again and her hand immediately flew to her mouth.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…" Rachel stammered as she looked down at her plate.

Tom waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the current conversation, but that defensiveness was still there, and he was still holding his emotions close to the vest. This was not going the way he had planned. He had hoped for a laid back and open dinner, but neither one of them seemed to be comfortable. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn't feel the same way about him, and she felt uncomfortable being alone with him. He tried to eat but his stomach was tight, each bite making him feel fuller and fuller. He pushed it around, lost in his own head, almost forgetting she was at the other side of the table. Eventually he shoved his plate aside, unable to eat anymore.

"Thank you, that was a lovely meal," she said, and he looked over to see she had cleaned her plate. He still didn't have words and he was feeling lost. He could see in her eyes that his lack of conversation was unsettling her.

"Yeah," he mumbled. Real suave, he thought. He reached up and rubbed the back of his head, just to be doing something. "Thanks for coming," he breathed out. He knew he should probably say something. Anything to spark a conversation but he was stumped. He didn't know what to say to her, and his feelings were jumbled and twisted. She was staring at him expectantly, but nothing was coming to mind. He was tongue tied and wishing it was over. He couldn't look at her anymore, so he was staring at the wall, trying to sort through the tirade of emotional energy pulsing through him. There was love, desire, and heat for this woman. There was also guilt, and anger, and pain. Why did it feel like he was cheating on his wife, when his wife was gone?

Maybe he just wasn't ready. Maybe he just needed time. But part of him didn't want to take time. Part of him wanted this to filter out, to become something more. She was standing up now.

"Well thank you for the evening. It's late and I know I have an early morning," she was saying. His muddled brain cleared enough to register she was ready to leave.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Tom stumbled over his words, as his voice cracked in the middle. She gave him a sad smile and turned for the door. She was reaching for the door when he knew he had to say something. "Rachel?"

His voice was full of uncertainty, and he hated the way it sounded. He was the captain, the champion of control. She looked back over her shoulder at him. A forced smile came over her lips and Tom fought the feeling that she didn't feel the same for him. He knew he needed to explain, that he was confused and overwhelmed at the moment. That he just needed a little more time to work through these issues and then…then he'd be emotionally available to her.

"I'm sorry, this…my company tonight…I'm…sorry," was all he could muster. He felt ridiculous. He couldn't put a sentence together, couldn't express what he wanted. He wasn't used to not being able to articulate what he wanted or felt. What he needed. This was new territory for Captain Chandler, and he was struggling. It was all he could say so he sat there and waited for her response.

But she didn't say anything to him. She simply nodded and then left the wardroom. He was left in silence as he stared at the partially eaten food. This had been a bad idea he thought. He pushed himself up and cleared the dishes away then retreated to his stateroom to brood in quiet.

To Be Continued…