A/N: Jennifer and Emily: your two comments on Nov 13th essentially sum up how I feel about it. Honestly, I wouldn't have been nearly so irked about how her exit was handled if they'd introduced Sasha almost any other way. Maybe they served together before he met Darien, and had had chemistry but couldn't date because of regs, or something else like that. Really, anything more gradual, that didn't have him moping one scene and blatantly flirting the next would have been an improvement. But I digress. On with the fic!
_.
The recently sworn-in president looked around. The Inaugural Ball was well and truly under way, and he was standing with Captain Chandler, listening to (yet another recitation of) the tale of the Nathan James when suddenly the tale suddenly ceased. He looked over at the captain and found him tracking someone on the other side of the room, near the entrance. Following his gaze, he found one Dr. Rachel Scott…dressed very differently than she was when they had left the ship this morning. She had been wearing her usual jeans and a sweater; now she was wearing a black lacy number which was turning more than a few heads.
"Oh, go on." Michener said, chuckling. "We'll be fine." That, and a gentle nudge, was all it took to get him moving across the floor. He turned to his other guests. "You'll have to forgive him. I don't believe he's ever seen her in a dress before."
"Who is she?"
"That, ladies and gentlemen, is Dr. Rachel Scott."
"The Dr. Scott?"
"Yes."
They looked on as the two met, Dr. Scott's eyes lighting up as she saw him approaching in dress uniform. She accepted his arm, then blushed darkly as he whispered in her ear with a mischievous smile.
"Damn. My sister is going to be so disappointed." Michener raised an eyebrow at the speaker. "What?" she asked. "He's handsome in that uniform. If I were single, I'd be disappointed too."
. . . . . . . .
Michener looked around the ballroom. The man he was looking for should be easy to spot. However, he was not to be found. His XO, though, was.
"Commander Slattery?"
"Can I help you sir?"
"Have you seen Captain Chandler?"
"Left a few minutes ago, sir."
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
"…Don't think he was planning on it, sir." Something about the commander's tone made Michener raise an eyebrow. "Just saying, sir. Last time I saw him, he and the Doc were joined at the hip."
"…Of course." He sighed. "I'll have to catch him tomorrow."
. . . . . . .
The pair were making their way down the hallway, their forward progress somewhat hampered by their inability to keep their hands to themselves. They were standing in front of his door, Tom's efforts to reach his room key thwarted by Rachel grabbing his jacket and kissing him soundly, when they heard a voice.
"Y'all seen the British doctor?"
They paused, Tom opening one eye and peering over Rachel's head to look at the speaker. Upon recognizing the man, his blood ran cold. Rachel sensed his sudden tension, the way he froze, and the way he suddenly held her too tightly to even turn her head around.
"Tom?" she whispered.
"Shhh." He said quietly.
"Dr. Scott? I think I saw her downstairs." Tom said, keeping his own face hidden by immediately kissing her again. He didn't want either one of them being recognized. She caught on quickly, bringing her hands to either side of his head.
"Where downstairs?" the stranger persisted.
Tom gave a blatant exasperated sigh. Rachel looked at him under cover of her hands.
"I've got an idea." She whispered. "Don't act surprised." He nodded infinitesimally. Then, in a perfect southern twang, Rachel addressed the man behind her. "Lordy, can't you see we're busy? Now skedaddle!"
"Apologies, Ma'am. Good night."
They closed for another kiss until Tom pulled back and opened the door, practically shoving her in his room.
"He's gone."
"Tom, who was that!?"
"That was Curtis - an Immune." He said, picking up the phone to notify the secret service. "Can you bring me my bag?" he asked, pointing. "Captain Chandler here. I need to speak with the secret service about an imminent threat." Taking the bag from Rachel, he opened it and pulled out a small case. "Yes, I just saw an Immune named Curtis in the building. He was looking for Doctor Scott, but you need to secure the president now. And please send my men up to my room. Slattery, Green, Burke, Wolf, Miller. Room 33." He hung up the phone and turned back to Rachel after he verified his weapon was loaded.
"Where'd you learn to talk like that?" he asked, curious.
"The CDC is based in Atlanta. Spent a bit of time there."
"Thank god."
"Um, what should I do?"
"You'll be fine if you stay here. Our guys should be here soon." He looked at her, assessing her quickly. "It would be a good idea to take off your heels, just in case." He decided, frowning.
"You sound disappointed."
"I am. You're much easier to kiss with them on." He said. "But on the off chance you need to run…"
"In this dress?"
"You could take that off, too." He said, allowing himself a brief but salacious grin as he stood guard by the door. "Though that's certainly not how I expected it to come off tonight."
She raised an eyebrow at Tom's ability to flirt under these conditions.
"And how did you imagine it happening?" she said saucily, walking towards him, causing him to groan as he tried to maintain focus.
"Well, for starters, I expected to be helping you…" Suddenly they heard multiple pairs of feet running down the hall. "That's probably our guys."
"Probably. Hopefully they can take care of this soon." She said, getting close enough to whisper in his ear as he looked out the peephole. "Because I will need help getting out of this dress." His strangled response was cut off by a knock at the door.
"Sir?" Lt. Green's voice came through the door.
"Nice response time." Tom said, opening the door. "You armed?"
"Yes, sir. You okay here?"
"Better now that you're here. I saw Curtis in the hallway."
"He's here? Damn. Did he see her?"
"He saw us, but didn't recognize us. Managed to bluff him into thinking that she was still downstairs."
"He didn't recognize you at all?" Burke was somewhat incredulous. The captain was still in full dress uniform, for heaven's sake!
"He didn't exactly get a good look at our faces. And Rachel can pull off an astonishingly convincing southern accent."
Five heads swiveled in Dr. Scott's direction to find her attempting to hide her beet red face behind her hands. Mike grinned openly once he connected the dots – the rest struggled to keep their amusement to themselves. Finally, she sighed and went with it.
"Y'all done gawkin' yet?" she asked.
Miller tittered at that, breaking the dam. After the wave of laughter died down, Miller spoke up.
"Never thought I'd hear that from you, ma'am. It's a very good accent."
"It was fun to mess with new people at the CDC." She admitted. "Won several bets that way."
"Win anything good?" Tom asked.
"Mostly drinks. Naming rights, once."
"Naming rights?"
"I named a particularly nasty microbe after my first ex-boyfriend."
"Ouch." Mike said, suddenly looking forward to story time at future Chandler family picnics.
Just then, the phone rang.
"Chandler." He listened for a moment. "Thank you." He looked around after he hung up. "The president is secure, but they're still sweeping the building."
Mike looked at his men.
"Okay, boys, two-man sentry on the door at all times. Green, tell that fiancée of yours I'm sorry."
"Fiancée?" Rachel said "Congratulations, Danny!"
"Thank you, ma'am." He turned to his team, urging them towards the door. "Burke, Miller, first shift. Wolf, let's go check Dr. Scott's room. Sirs, Ma'am." Mike nodded, dismissing them before talking to Tom.
"I'll go coordinate with the secret service. I'll keep you posted."
"Thanks." Once Mike left, Tom sat on the bed and placed his sidearm within easy reach on the nightstand. "Well, this certainly isn't how I'd hoped tonight would go."
"Me either."
"Might as well get comfortable." He said, unbuttoning his jacket. "You want to change? I have some extra Tshirts in my bag."
"You just want me out of this dress."
"Au contrair. I love you in that dress. Can you keep it?"
"I don't know. It was a loan. I could ask, I guess."
"Oh, please do."
"Then why the offer of your shirt?"
"We might be waiting a while. I can't imagine that dress is comfortable to sleep in." He smiled. "But I can get the guys to bring your things once they've cleared your room, if you like."
"You're a sweet man." She said, sitting next to him and kissing him. He kissed her back, but she could tell he was distracted. "You're really worried about this Curtis, aren't you?"
"Yeah. He wasn't the most stable of the bunch – and it wasn't the most sane bunch to start with. I don't know exactly what he wants, but I know it's nothing good." His arm tightened around her, and she felt her eyes prickle at the protective gesture. While she knew she was in real, specific danger, somehow she'd never felt safer. She pulled her feet up on the bed and snuggled against Tom to wait for the all-clear.
. . . . . .
Mike knocked quietly on the door to the captain's room at five a.m.
"Come in." came Tom's voice, low but carrying.
Mike opened the door, finding Tom and Rachel on the bed still dressed in formal attire. Tom was sitting up against the headboard, one hand on the weapon lying next to him, and the other arm resting on Rachel's shoulder as she slept, her head in his lap.
"We got him." Mike said without preamble.
"Good. Was he alone?"
"From what we can tell, yes." He paused. "He also had a gun." Mike watched as Tom's nostrils flared at that news.
"She never goes anywhere without a guard again."
"I don't know about never, but for now, yes, that seems like a good idea." He looked at Tom's right hand, how his fingers curled around the weapon underneath them. "But you don't need to be one of them. We've got two perfectly good operators on the door. You focus on her."
Tom nodded, acknowledging Mike's point by putting the gun back on the table.
"Thanks, Mike." He said sincerely, letting his head tilt back and his eyes close for the first time that night.
"'Night."