Author's Note: A reaction to "Uneasy Lies the Head". Obvious spoilers. See End Notes for more information.
He'd pushed her to it, drove her to an edge and then shoved her over. He had bullied her into a dangerous corner, one she had no chance of fighting back from.
You said you were having trouble with the vaccine.
You said that could take months.
He killed my wife.
He'd seen it in her eyes the moment he let those words slip, saw the guilt that mirrored this own with every breath he took. But there was something else on her face when he spat out those continual words of manipulation, emotions he hadn't been privy to before.
Sorrow.
Fear.
But not the sort of fear that comes from bodily harm or mental inadequacies. That fear he'd witnessed was deep and comfortless and if he had a lifetime he would never come close to understanding it. What he had understood, however, was that his words had worked, and her will was being bent for his gain. For their gain.
Was it really so easy for him?
Had it been so simple a thing to control such a woman? Had it only taken a few words, said with conviction and sinuous force, to break her free from the rejections of before and settle her on a path of his choosing?
Because isn't that what happened?
Isn't he to blame for the bloody, rotting body on the deck of his once-helo bay?
She'd told him no, and she'd told him the man they'd fished from death would only bring more problems, more harm than good. But he was the commander, and he of course had known best, had known what to say and do, and he'd deemed it best that she talk with the walking pathogen. To convince the other scientist to give up his secrets.
What he hadn't known is where those secrets had been hidden.
He should have known she would go after them.
She'd done it, she'd talked and talked like he had asked, and then she'd gone in for more. He had been too distracted by too many other things to watch this horror he'd started unfold, but he was there for the final act, for the last scarlet stroke on a play they'd all been cast in.
She had killed.
Slaughtered.
He can only stare at her now, he can't form the words to address the terrible, dark mistake he's made. Her eyes are ginting with triumph and there is not an ounce of shame or guilt on her face; why should there be, when she has done exactly what he wanted her to? That innate fierceness in her is being put away slowly, like a feline retracting its claws, but - just the same as a great cat - the look of satisfaction over the act is failing to fade.
She has what he asked her to find.
She killed to get the answer.
And he pushed her to it.
Author's End Note: I had the feeling after watching this episode a third time that Rachel wouldn't have gone so far (not so soon) to get the sequence if Chandler hadn't said exactly what he said when he said it. That entire short, emotional dialogue evolved around one thing: getting Rachel to have answers faster. So in the end, she did. Maybe she could have kept from killing Sorenson if she hadn't been so pressured for time, not by herself but also by Chandler. I can't help but believe Chandler feels this way, especially as cold has he was throughout the episode to her.
There will be a follow-up on how Rachel see this situation, and I don't think she feels quite the way Chandler thinks she does.
Thank you all for your reviews and follows/favourites and a thank you also to new reviewer double malt.
Also, StarTraveler: your prompt is a good one though I think it is a little too expansive for the small one-shots I have planned for here. Thank you for the idea though.