CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: ACROSS THE POND

The Nathan James' first stop in Europe was on the coast of Portugal. It did not go well.

Tom stood in the CIC, listening as the landing team shared their findings via radio. "We're not seeing any signs of life," the leader reported as they walked through the heart of a coastal town. His voice was raspy, altered by the mask on his survival suit. Rachel had recommended they take precautions until she could verify that the virus hadn't mutated differently in Europe than in America. So far, it seemed like a good call. "They're all infected."

Mike shook his head in disbelief as he stood beside his CO, also watching the feeds and listening. "What happened?" he wondered. "We were picking up comms from this area yesterday." The messages had been brief and desperate, but they'd been there.

"We're too late," Tom muttered. "A day too late." If they'd pushed the engines a little harder or finished their last refueling op a little faster, how many lives would they have been able to save? How many more chances would they have as the world's population dwindled? He loathed feeling powerless.

"This one's got a pulse!" they could faintly hear someone call out. There were sounds of people running.

"He's in real bad shape," the team's leader reported back to his superiors. "We're administering the cure." It was unlikely to work, but they had to try. They had to do SOMETHING.

"Keep still, keep still," one of the other sailors in the background was saying, assumedly to their patient. "We're going to help you." There were noises indicating a struggle.

"He doesn't understand," someone pointed out.

"Just hold him down, then. And be careful with your suits!"

The infected man was gasping and mumbling in Portuguese as the team continued futilely trying to calm him. Then, abruptly, a horrible silence filled the CIC.

"Bravo Lead, what's your status?" Tom asked.

There was a long pause. "He's dead, sir."

As the Captain looked around the room, he found a lot of faces turned in his direction. They all took their lead from him, expected him to have all the answers. They were so far into unknown territory at this point that sometimes he almost forgot what normalcy used to be like. Tom had known that it would be bad, but still had wanted to be wrong. Hope was quickly diminishing and he knew they'd all be in trouble if it was totally lost.

"Continue your search," he ordered the team. "We came here to do everything we can."

A couple hours later, Tom watched from one of the bridge wings as the RHIBs were brought back aboard. The team's search had come up empty; there was no one in that town left for them to save. The sailors were quiet as they returned to the ship, and the members of the crew that were helping them were also subdued. Tom knew morale would take a hit, and he was left with the question of what to do now. Had they come all this way for nothing?

Almost unconsciously, his feet carried him through his ship down to the bio lab. As he arrived, Rachel was setting up tests on the samples that had been retrieved. If nothing else, they'd learn more about the virus ravishing the world, and Tom supposed that was sort of a win. "Hey," he greeted her as he closed the hatch behind him.

"Hello."

"Well, that didn't exactly go to plan…"

Rachel looked up. "I heard."

"I'm not ready to give up yet," he asserted. "I'm just not sure how many days like today we can take."

"We're still receiving transmissions," Rachel reminded him. "There are still people out there, people we can help."

"I know. And I also am fully aware of what our alternatives are." Her eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. "If we don't find a facility in Europe that can help you, we have to find it somewhere else. The next best option is the Pacific coast of the US, and getting there would require a long trip around South America."

"What about the Panama Canal?"

"Given how things were going when we were in Central America in October, I'm assuming there's no one left to operate it."

Rachel slowly nodded. "I see… Although, if we don't find what we need in Europe, there may not be enough of the world left to require mass production of the cure," she quietly pointed out. It was an ugly, horrible truth that they tried to avoid thinking about as much as possible.

Tom sighed. "Yeah, that thought has crossed my mind, too."

Silence reigned in the lab for a long moment. "Our chances may be better further north," Rachel finally suggested. "Perhaps Scandinavia. Communities were more isolated to begin with."

He nodded. "We're heading in that direction, but the weather's got to improve some first." It was still winter, and the Nathan James wouldn't fare terribly well against ice.

"Do you think we'll go to England?" Rachel wondered as she turned back to her work. It was obvious that she was trying to appear nonchalant - and not doing a very good job of it. Tom stepped forward and gently took her hand.

"If we can. I was planning to try northern Spain and the west coast of France first." She simply nodded, but he could read her like a book. "I know most of us have gotten to see our homes - or at least had to opportunity to try if we wanted to - but not all of us. Not you."

Rachel's eyes were trained on the table. "We don't even know if there's anything left of my home."

"I know... I'm sorry. You didn't bring much of it with you, either." He had pictures in his sea cabin spanning his children's lives, and other mementos from his past. Her room, however, was spartan and impersonal. The notion that she would never get back to her home hadn't even crossed her mind when she'd left for Norfolk the previous summer. She had packed for a job, not for a new life.

"They're just things," she tried to tell him, although it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince him. "It's not important."

"Yes, it is," Tom countered. "It's your life, your history. If I can get you back there, I will."

The fire in his eyes warmed Rachel's heart. He honestly cared and wanted to make her happy. Her life wasn't solely her own anymore, it was theirs. Her wants were his and vice versa. It was so comforting, but she couldn't ignore reality.

"I doubt there's anything left," she lamented. Fires had ravaged London as the infrastructure failed. She wished she'd thought to bring along pictures of her parents, or the coins her father had collected for her as he traveled the world. It was likely all gone. Erased like they'd never even existed. The thought nearly brought her to tears.

"I'm sorry," Tom softly told her as he rested his forehead against hers.

Rachel forced a smile. "It's okay," she whispered. "The past isn't as important as the future. Our future."

His lips gently met hers. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

"Thank you."

Tom blinked. "For what, babe?"

"Being you."

He smiled. "Anytime. I should probably get back to the bridge, but... You gonna spend the evening with me and the kids?"

Rachel gestured to the equipment in front of her. "Once I finish up here."

"Sounds good. Where's your shadow, by the way?"

Rachel startled, only realizing when he asked that Bertrise wasn't there and had been gone for a while. "I'm not sure... She said she was going for a bite to eat. She usually doesn't take this long."

Tom shrugged. "Well, she's gotta be here somewhere. Maybe somebody else borrowed her."

~ % ~

By the time Rachel had finished setting up her tests, Bertrise still hadn't returned to the lab. She was starting to actually get worried; normally the teen was very responsible and dedicated to their work. But then the hatch opened - the hatch out to the flight deck.

"There you are," Rachel told Bertrise as she came inside.

The teen looked sheepish. "Sorry. We - I lost track of time."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "We?"

Bertrise's cheeks reddened. "Sorry," she murmured again.

After a moment of thought, Rachel opened the hatch out to the deck. There was no one out there, but as she looked around, she saw a sailor climbing the ladder back up to the next deck. She didn't recognize him, but was definitely smart enough to put two and two together. There was no reason for Bertrise to be coming from the flight deck if all she'd done was go to the mess for a late lunch.

"So, what have you been up to, luv?" Rachel asked Bertrise as she went back inside. "I love a good story, and I've got the rest of the afternoon."

Sometimes their lives on the Nathan James could be so... incredibly... normal.

TBC...

A/N: Sorry this chapter's on the shorter side; I've been traveling and work is really crazy. But I'll post again this weekend.