A/N: That last chapter was too happy, right? Eek. Stay with me here.

xx
Where everything starts with your kiss,
didn't I do it all for the nights like this?
xx
When the light is so bright, you get a little bit, little bit blinded.
When you're lifted so high, falling feels like flying.
When you're lost in those eyes, it feels like you might be gone forever.
So one last kiss, then let it end on a night like this.
xx
Nights Like This | W. Darling

Saturday morning, Rachel woke up to a text from Tom that said, My dad's happy to take the kids if you feel like having a sleepover tonight, and sent back six grinning emojis. She went to the breakfast table smiling, a smile that was contagious for both a sleepy Kathleen and a bewildered Tex.

"I'm sorry we acted like children last night," he said gruffly.

"The day I expect you to act like an adult, Tex, is the day I return both of my PhD's and my MD."

He gaped at her, looking at Kathleen and then back at her. "That was cold."

She grinned, scrunching up her nose and sticking the tip of her tongue out between her teeth, and he smiled back, shaking his head.

"Did you make a decision?"

"Not yet. I'll give his building more of a look when I'm over there tonight."

Tex traded another look with Kathleen and said, "Hence the good mood?"

"I'm always in a good mood," she said angelically. "But you shouldn't expect me home until tomorrow."

"We won't wait up," Tex said, wiggling his eyebrows at Kathleen, who wiggled hers back.

"Right." Rachel stared down at her plate, decidedly not blushing. "Speaking of children," she muttered, which was admittedly unnecessary, and Tex cleared his throat in an attempt at reclaiming his dignity.

"You're not wrong," he said a moment later, and she smiled at him.

Tex drove her over at six, and she shared a casual dinner with Tom and the kids, who were excitedly chattering about the day they'd spent playing soccer with the other kids from school in a nearby park.

After Jed had picked them up and Tom was putting the dishes in the dishwasher, he said, "You wanna watch a movie?"

"Hmm." She was watching his arm muscles flex with the simple motions of reaching up to the counter and down to the racks of the dishwasher, and thinking about the muscles still concealed by the thin cotton t-shirt he had on. "Maybe later."

He glanced up at her with a smirk and she smiled back, and when the kitchen was tidy she stood up and took his hand, leading him into the bedroom. She turned to him, and before he could even lean in to kiss her she was pushing his shirt up with her good hand, tugging insistently when it was blocked by his arms and then sighing in satisfaction when he pulled it off over his head.

Her eyes were locked on his muscles as she traced them with her fingers again, and he said, "Are you objectifying me?"

"You wouldn't look like this if you didn't want to be objectified," she murmured, not looking up, and he gasped in mock outrage.

"Maybe I just like to be strong."

She held her arm out to the side and flexed her bicep, saying, "Me too," and then watched his muscles as he reached for her arm and leaned over to kiss it. Finally, she met his eyes again, smiling and letting him kiss her as his hands found the clasp on her sling.

They went through the same process of undressing and then Rachel nudged him back onto the bed, motioning for him to move back and lie down, and then she crawled onto the bed and knelt beside him to kiss him properly. With her hand braced on his chest, she felt his muscles shift as he reached between her legs to stroke her, groaning at the feel of her as she gasped against his mouth.

She stayed there a minute or two, her forehead pressed to his cheek and her fingers curling against his chest, and then slid away, moving to straddle his hips and groaning first at the stretch it took to kneel over him and then the stretch as he filled her.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, and she nodded, her head bowed forward as she let her body adjust.

She rocked against him, letting her mouth drop open, and then he drew his legs up behind her and she gasped again, leaning forward with her hand on his chest and raising unfocused eyes to his face. He kept his knees bent behind her, his feet planted on the bed, and all she could do was rock, the angle almost exactly perfect, everything lining up and she rocked, and rocked, and came, the arm that was holding her up trembling as she panted over him.

When their eyes met again, they were both filled with some kind of awe, and Rachel reached up to brush her hand over the side of his face before nudging him to flip them. Her back to the bed, she crossed her legs briefly behind his hips, both of them groaning as he was drawn even deeper, and then released him to find his own rhythm. She was sensitive enough to come a second time, and then he shuddered over her, his head dropping toward the pillow and his breaths harsh next to her ear.

A moment later, he rolled over onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. She couldn't move, really, sinking into the bed and laying her hand on his forearm. They were on top of the blankets, so Tom pulled away briefly to tug the bottom corner up over them, wrapping his arms back around her.

"You're pretty good at that," she murmured when she could form thoughts again.

"That was all you," he murmured back, forehead resting against her cheek.

"Oh right," she laughed. "One-woman sex goddess, that's me."

"Yeah."

She hesitated. "Very funny."

"Not a joke."

She fell silent, closing her eyes and hoping that maybe if she never spoke again she wouldn't have to deal with compliments. At all. In any way. Ever.

"Should we ask Tex?"

Her eyes popped back open and she shifted away just enough to turn her face and look at him. "Not funny!"

His eyes were smiling, though his mouth barely twitched. "Am I forgiven enough to make awful, inappropriate jokes?"

Raising her hand to his cheek, she skimmed her eyes over his face before meeting his eyes fondly. "You're safe," she said softly. "You wouldn't have said it if you didn't know that."

"Gotta test my boundaries sometimes, right?"

"Yes, if you're a four-year-old."

He did smile, then, belying his words as he said, "Okay, my ego can't take much more."

Dropping her chin slightly, her eyes on his lips, she replied, "I believe this conversation started with me complimenting you."

"Fair enough." He kissed her, his hand sliding to the small of her back as she rolled to face him and smoothed her hand down to cup his jaw. It was a lazy kiss, neither of them picking their head up from the pillow, and so easy and comfortable that it somehow looped back around to being too much, too much, and Rachel pulled away, their foreheads resting together again.

"How about that movie?" he said, and she sighed.

"I don't suppose it's bedtime."

"Not unless you want to be up with the birds."

She thought for a second. "Do we have to get out of bed to watch the movie?"

Smiling, he tipped his chin forward to kiss her once more before craning his neck up slightly to glance around the room. "I have a laptop around here somewhere. Do you want popcorn?" He turned and slid to the edge of the bed, standing up and walking to his dresser, and Rachel watched the naked back of him as he pulled out a pair of pyjama pants and put them on. When he turned back around, she was still staring, and he raised his eyebrows. "Want a t-shirt?"

"Yes, please."

He tugged one out of the same drawer and tossed it across the room to her, and she sat up and stretched her arms up over her head, letting the sheet fall away from her body. Dropping her arms, she picked up the shirt and looked across to see Tom staring back, his mouth slightly open, and she smiled, slipping the t-shirt over her good arm and then over her head. It was nicely oversized, soft cotton, and best of all it smelled like Tom.

"Um," he said, still staring even though she was very modestly covered now. "Popcorn?"

"No thanks. What are we watching?"

He managed to shake himself from his stupor, finding the laptop in a bag by the door, and he dropped it on the bed as he said, "I'll go look, but I'm pretty sure it's mostly action movies and kids' stuff." Reaching one hand up to the back of his neck, he rubbed at it with mild bashfulness. "We haven't… had a woman here…"

"Makes sense," she replied, her hands in her lap, the sheet covering her crossed legs. "Not action." She thought about her fingers wrapped around the grip of a handgun, the easy give of the trigger and the kick of the shot. She couldn't help a shudder. "I don't mind if it's a kids' movie, just something light."

"I'll see what I can do." He crossed back to the bed, planting one hand on the mattress as he leaned over far enough to kiss her, and then turned and left the room and she felt alone for all of five minutes, his absence sharp in the pit of her stomach even as she tried to breathe through it and ignore it, and then he was walking back into the room with a DVD case in his hand. "Looks like we had one Hallmark romance hidden away at the back of the shelf, and—" He turned the cover toward himself, then toward Rachel. "It has dogs. Will that do?"

She smiled, missing the need for a response as he smiled back automatically and she watched him, breathing slowly into the swell of her heart and the flutter in her belly. She watched him as he came back to the bed, sliding in to sit next to her and set the laptop up in front of them, watched his face as he focused on the screen until he turned to meet her gaze questioningly and she kissed him.

I've never loved anyone like you, she didn't say. Imagine saying that out loud, flaying her chest open for his close inspection. Just thinking it, she felt a vice grip her heart, squeezing out all the air that had filled it one moment earlier. Her chest tightened, her breaths struggling in and out, and she tried to focus on the movie, tried to relax against his side like it was nothing.

She pretended to fall asleep near the end of the movie, going limp and measuring her breaths. He eased her down to the mattress, tucked the blanket in around her, and left the bed for five minutes before crawling back in beside her and curling his arm around her waist.

It was only the need to buy time that allowed her to keep her breaths slow, avert a full-on panic attack until he'd fallen asleep and she could slide out of his arms, out of the bed, picking up her clothes and closing the bedroom door behind her. As soon as the door was shut, she fell to her knees, her chest crushed under a weight and the tears coming unbidden. She wept and gasped for air in utter silence, finding her phone in amongst her clothes and drawing up Tex's number.

Stumbling toward the door, she hit the call button, dropping to the ground again as it rang.

"Rachel?"

"Can you—come get me?"

"Are you okay?"

"Please."

"Five minutes."

She tugged her pants on under the oversized t-shirt, wrapping the rest of her clothes up into a little bundle and using it to wipe her face. She didn't want to be seen in public like this, but neither could she stay there and risk Tom finding her. It was after midnight—she prayed for empty halls as she pulled the door open and headed for the elevator.

By the time she made it to the outside doors, he was already idling in the driveway, and she burst into tears again as soon as she spotted him. Climbing into the passenger seat, she pressed her head to the glass of the window.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," she said, half a sob, and he pulled away from the curb.

Back at the apartment, he sat her down on the couch and wrapped a blanket around her before making her a cup of calming tea. He handed her the mug and she bent her head over it, inhaling the steam as he sat down beside her and offered his arm. She shook her head—she needed her knees pressed to her chest, a protective shield.

"What happened?" he asked again, and it was obvious he thought Tom had done something, his voice tight and his jaw tensed.

She shook her head again. "Nothing. Honestly, nothing. It was perfect." She hiccoughed a sob and breathed the steam in, taking a sip of the tea. "I shouldn't have—I got so caught up in forgiving him that I forgot I'm the one he should be protected from."

"What in hell are you talking about?"

She blinked, tears knocked loose to fall into her tea. "I'm not—I can't—I shouldn't have tried."

He sat back, watching her, and was about to speak again when her phone vibrated.

Tom: Are you okay? Where are you?

A whimper escaped her throat, like a scared puppy, and she hated it.

Rachel: I'm at home. I'm sorry.

Tom: Did I do something? Are you okay?

Rachel: You didn't do anything. I just need a minute to think.

When she looked back up at Tex, she gestured with her phone and said, "Isn't this evidence enough? What more do you need to know?"

"You got scared. That doesn't mean—"

"I ran."

He shook his head, never taking his eyes off her. "So run back. Apologize. Try again."

"And run again. It's pointless. I know myself too well."

"You are being extremely frustrating," he said gently.

She shrugged, staring down into her mug. "Do you really have room to talk."

"Look around. The apocalypse changes us all. I'm settled."

"You don't have a choice."

He snorted. "No matter what I say, you're gonna twist it. People change, Rachel. End of story, they change. You are not the same person you were a year ago."

"Maybe that was the mistake."

Planting his hands on his thighs and pressing back into the couch, he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly and Rachel thought he might be about to straight-up murder her. "I need to sleep. Can we try this again tomorrow?"

"Whatever," she muttered down at her mug. "I'll be here."

He stood up, walking over to press a kiss to the top of her head, and she waited for him to turn away before drawing her shoulders up around her ears, curled into the tightest possible ball. Safe. Alone.

When she finished her tea, she went to bed and stared at the ceiling for six hours. She wanted to be safe, but she had no reason to believe she wasn't safe with Tom, and in fact many reasons to believe the opposite, so what was the problem?

It hurt to be vulnerable. Even when she knew rationally that she was safe, it hurt to hold her heart in her hands and expose it to the elements. If she was alone, she could stay behind her walls, build her fortress up taller and not think about it, focus on solid things like work, puzzles for her brain and not her heart. Be alone. Be safe.

Be lonely. Let her heart shrink and shrivel in her chest, unused. Be safe. Wasn't she too old and set in her ways to start over now? But she'd already done most of the work, she'd already fallen in love and said all the things out loud, she'd accepted it, hadn't she? She'd spent months hurting over it when it was his choice, fought with herself and come to terms with it—was that all so she could throw it away now, make it her choice?

Be in control, be safe, be alone, spend the rest of her life wondering what might have been and loathing herself for destroying something good. Maybe it wouldn't always be good, but it was now. Was the gratification of making the end her choice worth the risk of feeling sick with regret the rest of her life?

No. That was what it came down to. Hate herself and make him hate her, or… wait. Be vulnerable. Try something new. Stop running.

Stop running. Stop running. Stop running.

When she heard Tex's shower turn on, she rolled over and reached for her phone.

Rachel: I wonder what the post-apocalypse psychiatric situation looks like.

Tom: Can I come over?

Rachel: Yes.

She switched to Tex's conversation window.

Rachel: Can you send Tom in when he gets here?

Tex: I take it you had a change of heart?

Rachel: Yeah.

Tex: Good girl.

She sneered at her phone, rolled her eyes, then dropped it back to the bed and pressed her face to the pillow, closing her eyes.