Author's Note: Spoilers for season two episode 13. See End Notes for more information.
The envelope felt heavy in her hands.
And dear Christ, she was flirting.
At least, she thought she was. Was that what flirting was now? The pull of a smile every time he spoke, or the inadvertent shrug that left her feeling like a schoolgirl again? What about the breath she begged to take after he looked at her like that, in the way he had which screamed at her want and need while his lips spoke such polite things?
Because they were doing it again, the push and pull so familiar to them. It was a dialogue under their words, unspoken desires and tears they had shared but never once voiced, a dialogue he had become so deft at, and so had she.
Os so she'd thought.
But there, in the moment, she felt her normal banter give way to something far more open, a conversation she'd wanted to have with him on the ship or in a lab or any one of a thousand other places that weren't right there. Not in a hotel, not in front of his room, and God, certainly not while he was dressed like that and she could feel lace whisper against her skin. She'd needed distance between them for such a conversation - spoken or no - but what she got was an elegant hallway and a manila envelope.
Damn him for looking at her like that.
Their dialogue was shifting, and after the girlish gestures and the proud strut of her freedom - because by God she was bound to no one but choice again - she felt the ridiculous, unavoidable, dangerous rip current that eddied around the man drag her closer. There was the proper excuse of the envelope, of course, the excuse that could save her, but when she could finally breathe in once, just full enough to fill her veins with the scent of deep ocean and sharp aftershave, that excuse lost all relevance.
It was not lost on her that he was holding his breath.
Being so close to him after so long at odds with one another, so close after they erected walls of rough stone, was a heady, empowering affair. He'd told her he would have followed through on the trial, and she'd expected nothing less. But now, with their fingertips dancing so close, she realized she never lost faith in him, never lost respect, not once in their time together. It seemed an impossible thought, because how many has she met in her lifetime that could have been formed from such a mold, a mold of a man who has her respect though all things?
She realizes he wasn't formed from a mold.
He was something the unbridled sea brought life to.
She needed to walk away.
So she did. She took a breath, gave him the worse one-liner she could think of, tried to act cheeky and then fled. It would have been so much easier if he'd just let her go, if he'd kept quiet and allowed her to retreat from their dialogue of promise and things that never were. But then he said those words, and it caused something to go tight in her chest.
Be careful.
But it wasn't the fact that he said it. It was the manner in which he spoke that had her turning back. The words were barely given voice, breathed out to her in a plea, a plea. Christ, she had never thought to hear that man say such a thing to her.
And then…
Find me.
Words failed her, which was a blessing because her mind and her lips were incapable of finding a voice for them. She had thought herself free finally. Free to do her research and free to answer to only the president and free to be her again; he spoke those words and suddenly she realized she wasn't freed from everything. Not yet. But she didn't balk at that thought. On the contrary, a rushing warmth sent shivers through her at the thought that one day, when she'd fought her last monster and played God one final time, she might be able to find rest in such a formidable, noble, beautiful man.
The envelope had felt heavy.
Her heart had never felt so light.
Author's End Note: Well, this is sloppy, not my best work, and not sure I like it, but I felt like I needed to get something out there for Rachel. It isn't all I wanted to say for her, but this seemed an appropriate end point. Thank you again to all my reviewers, and to those who follow/favourite.