Never thought I'd find it, what I was looking for;
such a simple solace in someone I adore.
I can be a leader, and I will lead us home;
we will live in colour and never be alone.
They were woken at 0700 by a soothing woman's voice floating through the entire ship, saying, "Good morning, citizens. Please prepare for your scheduled breakfast period."
It made Chandler jump a little and draw his arms closer to his chest in reflex. Of course, Rachel was in between his arms and his chest, so he started his day by squeezing her tightly. If his hands were free he would smash his face into them, but objectively it was an incredibly pleasant way to start a day.
"Sorry," he said gruffly, releasing her, and she rolled over to face him, sliding back toward the edge of the bed to keep some space between them.
"Good morning," she said, a bit nervously. "We have a lot of ground to cover today, if all goes to plan. The plan, which…" She eyed him carefully. "…remains the same as it was yesterday?"
"Of course," he said, suddenly feeling equally nervous as he sat up and swung his legs down to the floor. "If you're willing to be tied to a jackass for twelve-ish hours."
"For the mission," Rachel said seriously, watching him from where she'd sat up in the bed.
"For the mission," he agreed, heading to the bathroom. In the doorway, he stopped short and turned around. "I'm just gonna be a second. You can have the shower first." She gave him a funny look, but as long as it had been since he was married, he knew: you always gave the woman the shower first.
Just before 0800, they stopped in the front hallway and Chandler picked up the binding from where he'd left it. He held it up and met Rachel's eyes. "Are you sure you want to continue?"
She just held out her wrist in answer, and he wrapped the cloth around it, slipping the knot through its hole and letting his thumb graze over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist before he let go and did his own.
When they stepped out into the hall, Sarah and Jeffrey were waiting for them, as chipper as ever. Chandler took Rachel's hand as they walked back to the dining hall, and after breakfast Sarah and Jeffrey led them around the personal development wing, showing them the library and exercise facilities, and allowing them to peek inside some of the classrooms.
Then they had a half hour before lunch, so they let Rachel loose in the library. She walked around like a bloodhound, leading with her nose, and Chandler trailed behind as she ran her fingers along the spines of books. He wasn't sure whether she lit up more here or down in the labs, but either way he watched her pleasure and clutched her hand, content to be ignored.
After lunch, a pair of scientists met them outside the dining hall and took them off Sarah and Jeffrey's hands. It was a man and woman, wearing lab coats and bound at the wrist, although the woman confided in Rachel that they removed their bindings in the lab.
"That's a relief," Rachel replied. "No disrespect to my husband, but he's, um—"
"A dead weight?" Chandler interjected, and Rachel slid him a sideways smile.
"Oh yes," the woman—her name was Rebecca, and her husband was Luke—said. "Sarah mentioned that you two don't work in the same field. That must be…" She shared a look with her husband. "…interesting?"
Rachel laughed, a real laugh that hit Chandler in the gut. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard her laugh before. It wasn't melodic, musical, the way romance novels always described that first laugh (not that he had ever read a romance novel in his life… or so he would tell anyone who asked) but raspy, from deep in her throat, and sexier than it had any right to be.
They took an elevator down again, and Rebecca and Luke led them to one of the labs, unlocking the door with the biometric scanners and ushering Tom and Rachel into a room that looked something like Rachel's lab on the ship. Rebecca and Luke removed their binding, hanging it on a hook by the door, and Rachel held her wrist out to Tom, smiling at him. When they were free, Rachel followed Rebecca over to a microscope and Chandler started wandering the room, keeping his hands to himself and just looking around. He had no idea what he was looking at, but Rachel wouldn't even let him into her lab, so he enjoyed the chance to snoop.
He didn't bother paying attention as Rachel and the other scientists looked through lenses and studied computer screens and nattered away in science-ese. He did, eventually, sit down on a stool that didn't appear to be close to anything important. He did, then, watch Rachel work, because he had nothing else to do. She was engrossed, although Rebecca at one point nudged her and pointed over to Chandler, at which point Rachel met his eyes and smiled.
He could have sworn the world slowed down then, as he watched Rebecca's lips form the words, "You haven't been married long, he looks lovesick." Rachel looked over again, her eyes widening, and he cringed, looking down at the blank counter in front of him. Probably, Rebecca had been extrapolating, saying something nice just to say it. The fact that it was true didn't help, but it also didn't mean Rachel would believe it.
A while later, Rachel called his name and they all gathered inside the door again to replace their bindings. He didn't want to take her hand—maybe if I act like nothing is going on nothing will be going on—but he knew it would be suspicious if he didn't, so he did.
As they walked back down the hall, he asked, "Did you get everything you needed?"
"Mm," was all he got in response, and he realized Rachel was holding herself tensely, her eyes on the other scientists. He thought it was about him, at first, and was trying to think of something to say when they passed a hallway branching off the one they were in and Rachel darted down it, pulling him with her.
What, he didn't say, keeping his mouth shut and following her lead as she pressed her body to the wall and peeked around the corner. When the hall was clear, she headed back the other way, walking as fast as her legs could carry her, and it was all he could do to keep up. At the door to the lab they'd just left, she pressed her fingertips to the centre of the panel and he was surprised to see it swing open. She bent down, picking something up off the floor, and he realized she'd blocked the latch as they'd left. How had she done that without him noticing?
She rushed into the room, letting the door fall shut behind them, and tore the binding off her hand before sprinting to the computer and pulling her personal comm out of her pants pocket. She took several pictures with the built-in camera, then spoke into it as she scrolled through some files.
Chandler was still standing frozen just inside the door, trying to figure out what was going on, when he heard voices in the hallway and said, "Rachel," jerking his head back toward the hall. She tapped on the computer screen a few more times until the files she'd opened were closed, slipped her comm back into its pocket, then crossed back to him in a few long strides, letting her momentum carry her crashing into his chest and slamming him back into the wall beside the door.
Before he could regroup, she was reaching up and tugging him down, fusing their mouths together as she pressed the entire length of her body against him and the door clicked open beside them.
"Oh my goodness."
The voice was only inches away but sounded incredibly distant as his hands at the small of her back pressed her body even closer, her shirt sliding up with the heels of his hands as his fingers spread across her skin.
"Excuse me," the voice spoke again, and Rachel let him go, stepping back and covering her mouth with one hand. Rebecca and Luke were standing in the open doorway, staring, and Chandler side-stepped around to the other side of Rachel, one hand going up to rub at the back of his neck.
He stared at the floor, feeling his face heat up—oh god, I'm blushing, how embarrassing—and then Rebecca started laughing and Luke joined in.
"Newlyweds!" Rebecca said jokingly, and when Chandler glanced at Rachel, she was smiling back at the other woman ruefully.
"Sorry. What you said earlier, just… um."
"Not to worry," Rebecca replied, ushering them back out into the hall. "I understand." They started back down the hall to the elevator, Rachel hurriedly reattaching her end of the binding cloth, and Rebecca went on, "I remember those days. Vaguely, but I do remember them. That look in your husband's eyes… well, if you could resist it, what's the point of being married, right?"
Chandler kind of wanted to sink into the floor as Rachel wrapped her hand around his again and squeezed. She laid her other hand on his forearm, rubbing it up and down reassuringly as she said, "Right. Thank you for understanding."
Back upstairs, Rebecca and Luke joined them for dinner. Once they were seated, Rachel took Tom's bound hand and set it on her leg, laying her own hand on top and stroking it over his skin. The three of them seemed to be having a pleasant conversation, but Tom could only stare at his plate and think about how miserably in love he was. So much for staying in control. So much for being the strong one. He was useless.
Once again, their guides left them to return to their unit after dinner, and once again, Rachel scrabbled to remove the binding as quickly as she possibly could once the door closed behind them. Chandler only made it one step past the door, remaining there as Rachel hung the binding cloth from the cradle on the wall and took a few steps down the hall.
She turned back, when he didn't move, and stared at him. "I'm sorry," she said, "about earlier."
"It's okay," he said, waving a hand dismissively but not looking up.
"Are you okay?"
He nodded—liar—and said, "I'm wondering." He paused. "If you… if you knew you could have one night with someone, but only one night, and then… nothing. If you could only have one night, would you?"
"That's not much of a hypothetical."
He shrugged one shoulder. "Would you?"
"Yes." She took a step closer. "If, in another hypothetical, someone had already told me there was a future for us, however distant, then yes. I would."
He almost smiled at that—she was too smart for him, she would always outsmart him, and that was just as it should be. With the ghost of a hope on his face, he finally looked up to see her watching him carefully, and when he said, "I think I made a mistake," she tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together. He waved his left hand at the wall: "Yesterday."
She started to smile, but her eyes narrowed at the same time. "That was not a good time for a mistake."
"I know." He started walking forward, slow measured steps. "I feel pretty terrible about it."
She could just reach him now, her fingers plucking at the hem of his shirt, curling around it as he took another step forward, and she said, "No more of that," before taking her own step forward and reaching up with one hand, leaving the other curled in the fabric of his shirt as she slid her hand around the back of his neck and drew him down, pushing up to meet him halfway and kiss him.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, hungry as ever for her touch, and bent his knees and lifted so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. Turning toward the wall, he backed her up against it, holding one hand out to take the brunt of the collision and then pressing her back to the wall and sliding his hands down to grip the underside of her thighs.
She shifted, her shoulders leverage as she tilted her hips and readjusted her legs, moaning into his mouth as she managed to make contact, and then his fingers were sliding up her thighs and reaching for the heat he could feel even through her pants and she made another sound, deep in her throat and somehow desperate.
He moved his hands back to safety, breaking the kiss and saying breathlessly, "Rachel." She darted immediately for his neck, sucking at a spot just inside his collarbone, and he groaned, one hand going up to her shoulder and pressing her back against the wall even as she looked up at him with hazy eyes and pouted. "Rachel, are you sure—"
"Yes." She nodded stoutly, and he had to fight a smile.
"I mean, are you sure that you can go back… back to the ship and back to the way things were?"
"The mission comes first," she said by rote, staring at his mouth.
"I'm going to put you down if you can't focus."
She smiled at his mouth, then frowned up at his eyes, and he had to grin before schooling his face into a serious expression. "I want this mission to succeed as much as you do," she said, "if not more. It's my name on the line if I can't cure this virus. Don't doubt my commitment."
"Whoa," he said back. "I was thinking more like, if my life is threatened… again. I need to know that what happened with Kara and Danny won't happen with us."
She thought about that, nodding a little. "I will probably shout at you, but I have a history of shouting at you, so." She shrugged. "What about you? You have a lot more sway."
"Yeah, I thought about that," he said, "but I have a history of… saving you. So."
"See," she said, looking back down at his mouth, "that's sexy."
Oh my god, he thought, the hand on her shoulder going up to cup her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her again, leaned into the cradle of her hips and swallowed her whimper, then dropped his hand to slide it between her spine and the wall, one arm locking around her back while his other hand still had a firm grip on her thigh. He turned them away from the wall, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck as he kissed her with eyes open, taking careful steps down the hall and through into the bedroom.
He turned again, backing up to the bed until he felt the mattress against his legs and then sitting down, and they both groaned as Rachel settled in his lap, breaking the kiss to lean her forehead against his cheek as she let her legs unlock, her feet dropping to the bed and her hips automatically rocking against him. She muffled her whimper, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing their chests together as she rocked again, and again, and Chandler had to stop her before they both came fully clothed.
Slipping his hands under her shirt, he held her waist briefly to still her, then pushed her shirt up and over her head. Turning to lay her down on the bed, he stopped to kiss her deeply, and when he pulled away to stand she pouted again, her brow wrinkling. He pulled his shirt off, unbuckled his pants and got them off as fast as humanly possible, and then he leaned over to kiss her stomach, his hands at the waistband of her pants as he said, "Don't be sad."
"Hurry up," she said back, her voice straining, and he tugged her pants off, climbing back onto the bed and sinking inside her. She'd squeezed her eyes shut, her hands gripping at the muscles on his shoulders, and he waited until her chest rose and fell with a captured breath before he started to move. She swept her hands over his shoulders and up to the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss her as her body moved in response to his.
He built a slow rhythm, focused on her reactions, her gasping breaths and the way her fingernails scratched through his hair, drawing a groan out of him. When she arched against him, trails of rapidly evaporating sweat tracing between her breasts and down over her belly, he slowed down further and she gasped for real, her eyes opening as she gripped the back of his head and said forcefully, "Tom."
He could have teased her, made her say it out loud, but that was actually some pretty direct and clear communication from Dr. Rachel Scott, so he listened and picked up his rhythm until she reached her peak and fell, with him following soon after.
Holding himself up on one arm, he reached around with the other for the blanket, pulling it up and over Rachel's body before drawing himself out of her and rolling to the side. She took the blanket gratefully, pulling it up over her shoulder as she rolled to face him, and still she began to shiver as the sweat evaporated and her body cooled down. He reached out and tugged her into his chest, blanket and all, and she tucked her head under his chin, sighing.
"You're a furnace," she said, and he smiled.
"You're just very small."
"I am not. I am above average height for a woman, a normal weight, and you would be surprised how much of that is muscle."
"I think I can say I'm at least relatively familiar with your body at this point. You're still small."
"To a giant," she muttered into the blanket even as she snuggled closer and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. They stayed like that and dozed off a little until Rachel woke with a start and jerked against him.
The lights were all still on and he wasn't sure if he'd actually fallen asleep, but he put a little space between them, one hand on her upper arm and the other going up to her cheek as he looked at her. "You okay?"
She looked startled, confused, and annoyed, and it took her a second to respond. "I need… to write a report."
Thoughts flashed through his mind—a sex report? and right now, really? and oh right, some shit went down today—and what he ended up saying was, "Oh. I just realized I never asked you what the hell happened in that lab, and, um, I'm kind of ashamed of myself."
A brief smile stole across her face, and she tapped her index finger on his chin. "This is what happens when you ignore your baser urges. They eat your brain from the inside out."
"Science!" he replied, and she grinned before turning grim.
"Actually, this is a good example of why we need to be on-mission as soon as we leave this ship. Rebecca and Luke showed me the composition of the virus and the formula for the cure, but it's what they didn't show me that made me go back. When the files were sorted by date, the virus and the cure were bookended by two memos.
"The first was addressed to the captain of this ship, from a doctor we didn't meet, chief of something-or-other. I have the details on my comm, but the memo outlined the dosing of raw meat that was to be shipped frozen to the other Earthships within range, a supposed surplus. The second memo was from this captain to the captains of the other Earthships… a gracious note about their donation of the surplus meat.
"Also, the cure formula they showed me was incomplete. I'm not sure what the long-game is here, but it definitely isn't for us to return with a successful cure."
"Jesus," Chandler breathed. "So… either they want to destroy the other populations, or… what, come out the heroes with the cure?"
"I don't know." Still wrapped in the blanket and Chandler's arms, Rachel leaned her forehead against his chest with a long sigh. "Whatever it is, it's not good." She sat up, looking around for her tablet, then walked into the living area, wearing the blanket as a toga. Coming back with tablet and comm in hand, she climbed onto the bed and set a pillow up at the head so she could sit up and work.
"Can I do anything?" Chandler asked; she was already engrossed and tapping away at the screen.
"I could use a drink of water, babe." She looked up, staring across the room at the wall, eyes narrowed. "Let's strike that from the record. That didn't happen. Just a water."
He leaned over, kissed the top of her head, and said mildly, "Okay, sweetie-pie."
She just shook her head, purposefully ignoring him, and got to work. Chandler put his pants back on and headed out into the living area to grab his own tablet, then over to the kitchenette to find bottles of water in the mini fridge and bags of snacks laid out on the counter. He grabbed two bottles of water and a bag of peanuts and went back to the bed, setting his own pillow up so he could sit next to her and read his book. Handing her one of the waters, he opened the bag of peanuts and left it between them on the bed.
A while later—all the peanuts, and most of his water—she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, sighing.
"All done?" he asked, taking her tablet from her lap and setting it with his on the bedside table. She reached up to rub at her neck, craning it in the opposite direction, and Chandler crossed his legs, tugging gently on her arm until she moved to sit in front of him so he could massage her shoulders. She sighed again, dropping her head forward, and he only managed to go over them once before she was leaning all the way back against his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her back into his lap, and she said, "I don't want to get used to this."
"I know," he murmured, their cheeks brushing as he bent his head to kiss the place where her collar bone met her shoulder. "I'm sorry." They sat in silence for a minute, her hands over his where they rested on her belly, and then he said, "You tired?"
"Kind of wired, actually. How about you?"
He smiled into the curve of her neck, kissed her skin again, and said, "I'm up if you're up."
"Up?" she said back, planting one hand on his knee as she wriggled in his lap. "You up?"
"Oh my god," he laughed. "Yeah, you keep doing that, I'll be up."
She reached back, instead, her palm landing flat on his stomach before slipping under his waistband and wrapping around him. She shifted forward, onto her knees, and turned around to face him, her grip adjusting but not releasing, and he groaned as she stroked his length and stretched up to kiss him. He didn't even have time to uncross his legs before she was pulling him out of his sweatpants and climbing back on top of him, pushing him back onto the bed as she guided him inside of her and settled on his hips.
She stayed there for a second, her head hanging forward and her hair dangling low enough to trace maddening lines on the skin of his abdomen, and he reached a hand up to her cheek, his fingers pushing through her hair and around the back of her neck, and she met his eyes, smiling wickedly before she started to rock her hips. His other hand slid from her knee to her hip and up to her waist, before running back down, his fingers spread as he massaged and memorized the muscles flexing as she rode him. Her body was incredible, and he didn't need her to tell him how surprisingly muscular it was.
When they were finished, she wrapped up in the blanket again and then in his arms. He had to fly them back again the next day, and they would need to get some sleep, but it was hard to shut off his brain, shut off the part of him that was trying to burn this feeling into his memory. He hated that he'd have to let her go, when just holding her like this was all he'd ever wanted.
He wasn't sure he wouldn't choose her, if he had the choice. He wasn't sure whether he was glad or furious that he didn't have it, had no choice but to carry on with the mission, because there was nowhere else to go.
She had long relaxed in his arms, her breaths slow and steady, when he whispered her name to see if she was awake. She didn't respond, and he whispered as soft as he could, "I love you. I'm sorry, I just had to say it."
xxx
The announcement woke them at 0700, and they met inside the door just before 0800. Rachel held up her wrist, her eyes intent on his face, and he took her hand in his and brought the inside of her wrist to his lips, closing his eyes and kissing the tender skin. He tugged her forward, meeting her eyes, and kissed her properly for the last time, one hand cupping her cheek and the other at the small of her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the kiss a study in muted longing, and then she dropped to her heels and held up her wrist again, and he bound it.
Sarah and Jeffrey were waiting outside their door with bright cheery smiles to lead them to breakfast. Rachel clutched Chandler's hand, and when Sarah said, "I hope you got the information you needed!" with absolutely no discernible hidden intent, Rachel tensed and replied, "Yes, we got plenty, thank you." There would have to be a proper meeting when they got back to the Nathan James, but for now their focus was on completing their 'visit' and making it back in one piece.
They shared a pleasant breakfast, and then Sarah and Jeffrey walked them back to the landing bay where they'd left their pod. Sarah hugged them both, holding onto Rachel a bit longer as she said something into Rachel's ear, and then Sarah unbound their wrists with a serious expression.
"Thank you, again," she said, "for participating in our tradition. Will you keep the cloth, as a memento?"
Rachel smiled, her hands clasped in front of her now that they were free, and said, "Of course." She accepted the gift, tucking it away in her pack, and then they donned their flight jackets and helmets and climbed back into the pod, waving and smiling their goodbyes.
While Chandler powered up the pod and checked settings he asked, "What did Sarah say to you?"
Rachel buckled her safety belt and sat back in her seat, closing her eyes. "She wished me success. Specifically, in my childbearing endeavours."
"Oh," he replied, and they didn't speak again for the two hours of flight time.
Chandler's officers, Doc Rios, and a few other key thinkers were gathered in the ward room when they arrived, with some of the Earthship V council patched in via vidcomm. Rachel delivered her report, to a response of mostly bewilderment and shock. No one could understand how the citizens of Earthship II could turn on their own people, for weren't they all still people of Earth?
"A siege?" Slattery asked Chandler, but Rachel replied.
"The citizens are innocent, I'm almost certain of it. Even the scientists who helped me, I can't—I don't believe they were involved. The captain, this doctor, whoever they have working with them, they are a minority on the ship."
Chandler let her speak, meeting her eyes when she sought his, and then he said, "This is a situation in need of finesse. If we want to salvage our relationship with the ship—" He met her eyes again, questioning; he wasn't sure that was the right thing to do at all, but she nodded. "—we will have to take out the ones to blame, and no one else."
Rachel and the Doc left the room at that point, to see if they could find any answers in the science while Chandler and his men discussed strategy. In the end, they decided on a Trojan horse—Chandler and Rachel would pay another visit in a larger ship, bringing gifts in return for the hospitality they'd been shown. Those gifts, of course, would be sailors armed to the teeth who would move through the ship to the captain's quarters with stealth. He would point them to those who assisted him, they would all be imprisoned, bing bang boom.
That was how Chandler explained it to Rachel, anyway, insisting that she didn't need to actually be aboard the ship for the plan to work. She argued—after all, they would need to find the complete cure, and his men couldn't be trusted to know where to look or what to look for, but Chandler promised they wouldn't return without it and she relented.
He promised, looking into her eyes, and she looked back with her eyes soft and sad around the edges and said, Okay. I trust you.
It all went more or less to plan, so he would tell Rachel and the rest of the ship. The captain was a fool, the doctor mad with power, neither of them prepared for an ambush in their own quarters. They wanted to wrest control from the other ships, come out on top and lead all the Earthships as one—and they would have succeeded if it weren't for you and your little blah blah.
Chandler described it to Rachel like a scene from one of the ancient Earth movies, changing his voice and gesturing broadly as he sat on the edge of her bunk, and she just leaned back against the wall and watched him, more amused than he'd ever seen her. They'd brought back the doctor's personal computer with all the files Rachel could ever need, so she was predisposed to appreciation.
She spent the trip back to Earthship V in her lab, perfecting the formulation of the cure and then producing hundreds of doses, and they moored just off the ship until she had enough for everyone. Chandler had brought Rebecca and Luke to assist her, but the lab on the Nathan James was small and cramped and even as fast as they could work, they knew people were dying on the Earthship.
The sailors spent the days running drills and bickering, and Chandler spent his days napping between meal times, bringing Rachel food and watching as she ate it, taking her out of the lab when it was time to sleep and sitting beside her bed as she did it. He knew she would work herself to death, otherwise, and he couldn't afford to care what anyone else thought about it.
He didn't touch her, didn't hold her; watched, and coaxed, as the only person on the ship she would listen to. He didn't think about that—liar—as he sat beside her bed at night, didn't wonder whether her feelings went as deep as his—liar—didn't have a bud of hope growing a tiny bit every time he asked something of her and she looked at him with tired eyes and complied.
After all, it was for the mission.