A/N: I'm posting this a little early to make up for posting the last chapter late. ;-)

CHAPTER SIX: STANDING STRONG

The New Year started off with a bit of optimism. Tom was finally getting his cast taken off. He was anxious for his life to start getting back toward normal. He hoped that would help his state of mind, too.

This wasn't the first cast that Tom had ever had in his life; he'd been a very active and adventurous child. Nevertheless, it was still disconcerting to watch someone operate a power saw just millimeters away from your skin. Ashley and Sam had wanted to come along to the appointment, but Tom had sent them to 'school' instead. When Rios got the cast cracked open, he was glad he'd made that call.

"Well, that's still pretty damn ugly," Tom commented as he looked at his leg. His wounds from the bullet and subsequent surgery were healing, but the marks on his skin were numerous and still looked gruesome.

The doctor just shrugged. "Being scarred is better than being dead."

He couldn't argue with that.

Rios got Tom started slowly with physical therapy; the muscles in his leg were battered and atrophied. Much to Tom's frustration, just walking - or rather, limping on one crutch - around the ship was exhausting. The doctor prescribed a few exercises that he was supposed to perform in order to get stronger, but that wasn't good enough for the Captain.

It was nearly midnight when Rachel stopped by the ship's gym, intending to do a couple miles on the treadmill before an all-nighter in the lab. She was stunned when she saw Tom doing reps on a leg press machine.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she asked as she made her way to his side.

"Therapy," he grunted.

Rachel watched as Tom struggled to fully extend his leg; when he'd done so, she latched the mechanism. "There is no way that Rios cleared you for this."

He rolled his eyes. "It's only thirty pounds." Not that he hadn't initially tried to do more.

"I don't care," she fired back. "You could end up doing more harm to your leg than good. Didn't you already have PT today?"

Tom sat up. "The Doc and I have different expectations for my recovery," he told her before taking a swig from his water bottle.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "You know full well that you shouldn't be doing this, or else you'd have had someone here to spot you."

"I don't need anybody seeing this," he replied before chucking his water bottle across the room in frustration. "Hell, my father could probably handle more weight than I can right now!"

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, not impressed. "Are you quite finished?" she wondered. "If your son is too old for tantrums, you certainly are, too."

Tom glared, but she'd surprised him. He had grown very accustomed to everyone around him running for cover whenever he was in a bad mood. Their frightened or angry reactions would just make him even more upset with himself. But Rachel wasn't taking his crap and wasn't backing down.

"Were you expecting this would be an instantaneous recovery?" she asked in a gentler tone.

Tom took a deep breath. "No, but I didn't know it would be like this. I just… I'm tired of being weak."

"You're not weak," Rachel instantly replied.

"You don't know…" It hadn't gotten any easier to talk about what he'd been going through. However, there weren't many other people onboard that he'd feel comfortable confiding in. Tom didn't think she'd judge him. "My head hasn't been in a good place for a while. The Doc thinks I'm depressed… I don't know. I'm still trying to get things back on track. I just…" he sighed. "I want to get back to being someone that people can count on. I need that to happen." Being strong, capable, and dependable were so integral to who he was.

"It never stopped," Rachel replied as she knelt in front of him. "You may have pulled away from us, but we've all still been here waiting for you. Your children, your crew… me… You put too much pressure on yourself."

Tom looked away. "I keep wondering if something's changed. Like I'm not who I was - can't be who I was."

"I don't believe that," Rachel told him. "You can't remember what it was like when we first got you back to the ship in Baltimore… Commander Slattery's belt was around your thigh, but there was still a trail of blood dripping behind us. Doc Rios wanted to amputate, did he tell you that?" Tom shook his head slightly. "He was certain that you'd get a fatal infection. But your father said no." She wiped her eyes; the memories from that night weren't things she wanted to revisit. "He said you were tough enough to pull through. You weren't even conscious, but you clung to life so hard…" She gently twined their fingers together. "If you don't know how strong you are, we do. We'll remind you. If this crew hasn't proven by now that we're in this fight together…"

Tom slowly nodded. "Yeah… Thank you."

Rachel just shrugged. "What are friends for?"

He cracked a smile. "I guess I'm a pretty lucky guy… and should probably lay off of this and go get some rest."

"Yes, you should." She didn't bother to ask for permission before smoothly helping him up and reaching for the one crutch he was still using. Tom didn't bother to complain.

"Are we going to make a habit of having little chats in here?" he wondered as he limped toward the hatch.

Rachel laughed. "Hopefully not," she teased. "Otherwise I'll never actually finish a workout."

In the morning, after Doc Rios gave Tom a check-up (he omitted the details of his late night weight session), the Captain was officially cleared to return to his duties.

Once Tom left sickbay, he went back to his stateroom to get ready. He hadn't worn his work uniform in more than six weeks, since Baltimore. He felt a certain calm come over him as he buttoned the shirt, bloused the trousers, and tied the boots. It was like armor for him, making him appear stronger than he felt.

He tried to take a few unassisted steps across the room, testing out whether he could get around without his crutch. The answer he quickly received was 'no;' he wasn't THAT much better yet. The crutch didn't fit with the image he was trying to project, but neither would falling over.

"One step at a time," he murmured to himself as he checked his appearance in the mirror.

~ % ~

As Tom stepped onto the bridge, he could see the skies outside were dark and cloudy, but that was okay. Maybe like rain at a wedding, it would be a positive omen.

"Captain's on the bridge!" A petty officer called out when he saw him. It wasn't the normal protocol, but everyone turned around to look. Some seemed stunned by his presence, in uniform and back on the bridge after so long. After a moment, they all broke into applause. Tom shot a Look to Mike, but the Commander just shrugged; he hadn't put the crew up to this.

"Alright, everyone go back to your duties," he called over the clapping.

"Aye, sir!"

Slattery got up from his chair as Tom limped over. "Welcome back, sir."

"Thank you."

Alicia Granderson stepped forward and saluted him. "It's good to see you, sir."

"Likewise, Lieutenant."

"Would you like an update?"

Tom settled into his seat. "Yes, I would. What's on tap for today?"

A few nights later, Rachel was hard at work down in her lab when Tom stopped by. They'd just made another stop to find supplies and vaccinate anyone nearby. It had been a rough outing, with more survivors in the area than prepared doses of the cure. They'd had to prioritize who got treated first and then create more as quickly as possible. That made for a frantic couple of days, but they'd saved more lives in one stop than they'd ever done before. Now back out in the Atlantic, there still wasn't time for Rachel to rest. Their totally depleted stock of the vaccine wasn't going to rebuild itself.

"Evening," Tom greeted her as he stepped through the hatch.

Rachel looked up from her computer. "Hello, there. You look like you're getting around better."

He smiled, looking down at his crutch. Once he'd learned to live with it, he'd realized it really did help. "Yeah, a little bit. I have something for you."

She turned around in her chair. "Oh?" He pulled a box from behind his back and offered it to her. Rachel was surprised as she read the label. "Green tea?"

Tom nodded. "It's not that organic camela sinus stuff you had before, but… I hope it's good."

Rachel laughed. "Camellia sinensis. The only proper tea. Where did you get this?" The wardroom usually only had herbal blends, if there was any at all. Her personal stash had run out weeks earlier. She wasn't going to complain that this tea wasn't organic.

"I put it on the supply requisition list. I'm glad they actually found some ashore. I wanted to thank you for putting up with me."

She smiled. "It was nothing."

"No, it wasn't. Not to me, at least. I never could have imagined back in June how important you'd be to me, and my kids. You've really been there for us. I-I've still got some things to work out, but hopefully the roughest parts are behind me."

"You're all very important to me as well. So… you're welcome, and thank you for the tea. Would you like to stay for a cup?"

"Uh, no," he replied with a chuckle. "I think we've proven that I'm not a tea guy."

Rachel laughed. "You're missing out."

"I'll take your word for it. Anyway, I should get back; Ashley and Sam are waiting on me for bedtime."

She nodded. "Of course. Tell them I said hello."

Tom tilted his head as an idea came to him. "Do you want to come with me?"

"What?"

"Well, according to my son, you tell better stories than I do," he explained with a grin. "I'd love to hear one just as much as they would."

Rachel laughed. "I don't know if that first part is true, but… Can I get a rain check?"

"I'm sure your work could spare you for a little while," he tried to change her mind.

"No, it's not just that. I've got a bit of a cold, and I wouldn't want to give it to the children."

Tom nodded. "All right, some other night, then. But I'm holding you to it." He was pleased to see her genuinely smile.

"Yes, Captain."

TBC...