A/N This is a new fanfic of Tom & Rachel (Scotch). As English is not my native language, I have joined forces with JOYS of October for this story. This is our joint writing project. This is an AU story with bits of references from Season 2. Rated T for adult scenes & references.

The Letter

A man runs on the beach, feeling the soft sand beneath his feet, the morning breeze and the smell of the sea. The sight of the sea can always calm his thoughts and give him a sense of peace. He slows down the pace when he sees the wooden walkway leading to his house. A few more steps and he sees the house. His refuge some years ago.

A two-storey white house in the middle of trees, with a wooden walkway leading down to a private beach. The dream for anyone who wants isolation and comfort. His choice was based on the first reason. And also because he's an idiot who likes to torture himself.

Upon reaching the back door, he wipes his feet on the mat and walks through the kitchen, his nose drawn to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He's usually out of bed by 5:00am, sometimes earlier than that. The first thing he does is to brew a pot of coffee and cook a hearty breakfast.

He feels a presence in the house and his hand automatically goes to the gun he carries. He lives alone.

Although in civilian clothes, his posture was still intimidating. His exile made him even more unpredictable, lethal and dangerous to enemies. His visitor decided to announce himself. It would not be good to be mistaken for an enemy.

"Relax, my friend, it's me." Said a familiar voice.

"Mike… Do you want to be shot? You should have warned me you were coming…" Tom said while to puts the gun on the table.

"It's good to see you, too, old friend. If you had left the radio on, I might have tried…" Mike says ironically and hugged his friend.

Tom rolled his eyes and returned the hug. When they separated, Tom walked over to the coffee maker and poured into two cups. He was trying to postpone this conversation as much as possible.

Tom pulled up a chair and sat down and Mike followed suit, sitting in front of him. He leaned against in his chair, sipping his coffee silently as he watched Mike do the same, doing his best to keep his posture relaxed. But he felt a sense of frustration and irritation, because he knows Mike could be as stubborn as him when he wants something. An unexpected visit could only represent problems, the kind that he wants to keep away.

Mike looked at his friend, thinking of the best way to talk about her, but he knew there is nothing he can do to lessen the blow that this news would bring. Physically, he had not changed a lot. He was shaved and his silver hair was cut military style, his body was in shape due to daily exercises. Psychologically, it was another story… his eyes had changed, empty, dead.

"You were running, I presume." Mike said.

"As you know, running and swimming relaxes me. Don't worry, according to the doctor, I'm a very healthy man for my age. I don't think you've come all this way to talk about my health. What brings you here?" He finally asked.

"Why will I need a special reason to visit my old friend?" Mike retorted

"I know when you're hiding something from me. Just spit it out!"

"Tom, Rachel contacted me recently." Tom hardened visibly when he heard the name. "She wants to talk to you. She says it's very important."

"Let me be clear. She's dead. D-E-A-D. I accepted this fact years ago when I cut off all ties with my past. Rachel and I have absolutely nothing to talk about. She's part of a past that I have already buried in forgetfulness and..."

"Stop it," Mike cuts him off. "The problems do not disappear because you run away from them, Tom. You need to live again, my friend, you cannot be a prisoner of this pain forever."

"We've talked about it thousands of times before. I will not go back. I already fulfilled my duty and the price was too high, I've lost everything I've ever loved. Nothing else interests me, nor does she…"

"You are lying to yourself, if that was true you would not have chosen this house in particular. Although you deny it, you're still in love with her."

Unexpectedly Tom was reminded when he and Rachel... Shaking his head, he murmurs to himself. "Get out of my head, dammit!" He rose from his chair as if suddenly he could not stand still and took some nervous steps through the room. The real Rachel never liked to obey orders; the one who lives in his memories does not either. The memories keep flooding back his mind, the softness of her mouth, skin on skin, the warmth of her body in his arms….

"Stop, dammit it! Just stop." Tom screamed with an edge of despair in his voice.

Mike looks at his friend's aggressive posture with interest. Aggressiveness is a defense mechanism. His words touched a raw nerve. Before he could say anything, Tom spoke again.

"You can deduce whatever you want, I don't care. Go back and tell her, that you tried, but the answer is NO."

A little exasperated, Mike says, "You're making me dizzy walking in circles like that. Please sit down. "

Tom looked at Mike and his aggression deflated because he knows that the anger he feels is not for Mike but for himself. Regaining control over his emotions, he simply sits back on his chair again.

"I'm sorry. To be honest, I wasn't screaming at you, I just..."

"I know. In the shadows dwell memories that are sometimes good and painful at the same time. We have been friends for a long time and…"

"Why you still have not given up on me? I'm not an easy person to be with."

"Because friends do not give up when the door is closed. They hit the loudest, tell the truths that people do not want to hear, to beg if necessary, but give up, never."

"There is nothing worth saving here, maybe you should give up."

"Forget it! It will not happen," replied Mike in a solemn tone. "I will always be here for you; always…now that the door is open, I have a mission to fulfill." then, Mike reached into his inside breast pocket and took out an envelope. "She sent you a letter," he says, putting the envelope on the table, within reach of his friend's fingers.

His first impulse was to rip the envelope into tiny pieces without reading its content and mail the pieces back to Rachel or simply open the door and scatter the shreds to the wind.

"We don't ́t need any accidents." Mike says, and takes the gun from the table, putting it in his coat pocket.

Tom shook his head and smiled sarcastically. "Should I feel insulted by your lack of faith in me or in the fact that you think she can still affect me?"

"I never lost my faith in you, but I wouldn't bet against her, too. She has the habit of surprising people. As for the weapon, I know you would never use it on yourself, but on the windows, that's another story."

"You have not forgotten that, have you? It's been so long. It happened in this house. When the journalist made the mistake of breaking inside my house, I shot the windows to scare him. The idiot thought that he was going to get the biggest scoop of his career. At least after that, I did not have any other unwanted guests."

Mike remembers the incident and how the journalist in question sold the story as if it were a trophy. How he had entered the lair of the beast and survived to tell the story. 'Suddenly I heard the click of a gun's safety being removed. I looked around and I saw the Captain pointing a gun at me. I tried to negotiate, but he didn't say a word. Man, it was like looking into the eyes of death. I was lucky that I came out alive."

"You shot him several times, he was terrified. He really thought you wanted to kill him, but luckily, you missed. At least that's what he thinks. I know you're an excellent marksman."

"After he left, I had to clean up the mess he left behind. The idiot got so scared he wet his pants." He said with contempt.

"You, my friend can be downright scary when you want to."

"Good. Fear keeps the unwanted guests away." Tom responded, without touching the letter. He knows that he is only trying to delay the inevitable and by the look on Mike's face, he already noticed that, too.

Rising from his chair, Mike says, ''I'll leave you alone. I'll wait for you outside. Look, just do me this one favor - do not tear the letter down before reading."

In response to Tom's raised eyebrows, Mike says, "I know you very well. You are thinking of ripping this envelope to a thousand pieces. If you do that, you'll never know the truth, think about it," he says before he walks out of the kitchen, sliding the door closed behind him.

Tom turned the envelope between his fingers, thinking that this letter might represent the answer to his questions. Maybe he can put the last of his demons to rest.

He took a deep breath and opened the envelope, slipping his fingers inside and pulling out the letter.

He started to read, in the second paragraph he stopped. "I misunderstood," he murmured, and then he read it again and felt his blood boil, "God! She did not do it!"

He forced himself to read it until the last line and he when had finished, he rose from his chair, left the letter on the table, and approached the window from he where could enjoy the beautiful view outside. But he could only see his own reflection on the glass. He looked directly into the eyes of a man tortured by pain. He thought that nothing could hurt him again. He was wrong. She could.

Mike is startled to hear the noise of something being broken. He turned in time to see his friend take his hand off the broken window glass.

"Damn her," Tom shouted, furious. His hand closes about on a cup that is on the table and throws it hard on the wall.

Mike re-entered the kitchen and his eyes met with Tom's tormented ones "Tom, what happened? Are you okay?"

The question was rhetorical, it was apparent that Tom was not well. He had broken a glass window with his fist and his eyes showed a fury that Mike had seen a few times before.

"Tom, calm down. Take slow, deep breaths and concentrate on your breathing," He says, trying to bring his friend to reason.

"I don't want to calm down, I want to hit something." He shouted, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger

"If I thought that letting you break the whole house would help, I would let you do that, but we both know that this would not solve anything. Talk to me."

"Read the damn letter and then tell me if I have no reason to be angry." Tom says and throws another cup on the wall.

"Tom, where is the first aid kit? I really think you need…"

"Read the letter, damn it!" Tom demanded.

"Okay, okay. What should I read? The letter is something very personal, maybe you should just tell me what…"

"Read the damn letter." Tom practically growls. He needs to make sure he is not crazy and she actually wrote what he thinks she wrote.

Mike took the letter and started reading, keeping his friend under surveillance in his peripheral vision. He kept walking like a caged tiger, but at least he was no longer throwing things at the wall.

When he reads the second paragraph, he smiled with satisfaction. He does not need to read anything else. He was happy to know that she could be the answer to his prayers. Because now he saw more excitement in Tom than he had seen in several years. If before his eyes were dead, now they had a focus.

"Due to everything that's happened, keeping this little secret was best for her own safety. Being close to you at that time was a risk and you know it."

Tom spoke softly, but audibly. "So I'm not crazy." He knew Mike was right, but his anger would not permit him to consider that. "Wonderful! She lies and it's my fault. The enemy has been neutralized for years. She has no right to hide this information from me."

"I understand your anger, I do, but she may have some explanation for having hidden this information from you. Things were complicated at the time. You were married man, remember?"

"Really?" Tom asks in a voice full of bitterness. "Do you want to talk about my marriage?" I have not forgotten anything, although sometimes I wish I could.

"I'm sorry, I know how painful it is for you speak about your marriage. As for Rachel, I'm not justifying what she did, but she deserves a chance to explain herself."

"Well, what do you know? You, of all people, defending Rachel? As far as I can remember, you do not trust her."

"The way I see it, she has my respect and my friendship. She worked hard for it. We're alive because of her. Tom, she saved your life twice." And can save it again, Mike thought to himself.

"I know why she hid this information from me. Rachel has not changed at all. She is still a pathological liar and still playing games with me."

"Rachel is not like ..." Mike stopped when he saw the look of pain on his friend. "Sorry. This may be your second chance."

"Not everyone deserves a second chance, but I don't want to talk about it now. Where is Rachel? Is she in the US?" Tom asked. The last time he heard of her, she was in Africa. As a daughter of missionary parents, she spent most of her childhood traveling. She knew the African and Asian continents well; she even knew how to speak several of their dialects. Although she was the most famous person on the planet, she has managed to hide successfully during all these years.

"I do not really know where she is. I did not have a chance to do an investigation on the subject. I left people I trust by taking care of the case. My guess is that she did not come back. She promised to call me. Sit down and let me have a look at your hand."

"It's just a scratch; it will not kill me to lose some blood. I have survived worse things."

"I know, I was there, remember? Where is the first aid kit?" He asks again.

"The box is in the closet of the bathroom, second drawer on the left." He says and sits on the chair, feeling suddenly drained. While waiting for Mike to come back with the first aid kit, his mind took him to those first few days aboard the Nathan James and for the woman who has turned his life upside down. The woman he cannot forget no matter how hard he tries, the woman who is as much a part of him as the blood that runs in his veins.

Because of her, he has betrayed his principles. Because of her, he had done things that he never imagined that he would be able to do. Because of her, his marriage ended in the most tragic way possible. On that day, he had lost his ability to love. At least, that's what he says to himself when the memories threaten to choke him.

The worst prison is the mind and his has more monsters than he can handle at times. Chained monsters, but not always silent.

Although he denies himself, his feelings for her remains in his heart. In a place where he keeps the sweetest, most intense, and at the same time, painful memories of his life. Why did you have to come back into my life? Why, Rachel?

Mike came back with the first aid kit; he placed the kit on the table, and sat down on the chair beside him. "Give me your hand," he demands

"What? Without dinner before?" Tom asked

Mike smiles as he realizes that at least his friend's good mood has returned. Something more to thank her for. If he had to describe his friend in a word, sullen, would be appropriate. "What were you thinking?" He says, while cleaning the wound and beginning to do the dressing.

"I wasn't thinking. I just reacted. She can awaken the worst in me, "he says as he sucked in a breath when he felt pain in his hand due to decreased adrenaline and the sting of antiseptics.

"Next time, hit something soft…Or do not hit anything."

"Duly noted." Tom replied.

"Well, it's not perfect, but at least it stopped bleeding. You were lucky, that injury could have been serious."

Tom took a deep breath and flexed his sore fingers. "Thank you, Mike."

"Any time. Tom, what do you want to do? What do I say when she calls tomorrow?"

"You're not going to say anything." Then suddenly, Tom got up from his chair, headed up the stairs, and walked toward the bedroom and Mike followed him. He watched Tom put some clothes in a backpack

"Where are you going?" Mike asked

"I'm coming back with you. She owes me explanations and this time she will not run away like the last time."

Mike's biggest wish was to get his friend out of that self-imposed exile, but as the Captain of The Last Ship, he would be chased, photographed. The press was going to watch him like a rare species of an animal in a zoo and he would hate each minute.

"Are you sure you are prepared for this? If the press finds out that you are back…"

"I'm aware of what can happen. I will be treated like a specimen under a microscope. I have no alternative. If I talk to one of them, it will be on my terms. Why don't you have another coffee while I take a shower and change my clothes. Do not worry I will not wet the bandage, Dr. Slattery."

Mike went back to the kitchen. He picked up the pieces of the broken cups, cleaned the blood off the floor and waited. Ten minutes later, Tom appeared fully dressed, a cap on his head, blue jeans, gray T-shirt, black jacket and black tennis shoes, sunglasses in his left hand.

He folded the letter and put it in the envelope. Then he put the letter in his inside jacket pocket.

"Thanks for cleaning up the mess. I'm ready. Before we head out, I need you to give me back my gun." He said while extending his right hand.

"You do not need the gun. We can guarantee your safety." Mike said while handing the gun back to its owner.

"I need it in case I have to shoot some journalist."

"Good joke."

"Who said I'm kidding?" He says as he walks out the door and Mike follows him worriedly.

When the two were side by side, they made their way to the beach where the boat awaits them. Mike asks again, "Please, tell me you're joking about the journalist."

A grim expression was the answer before him as Tom puts on his sunglasses.

Tom looked down at his bandaged hand, thinking that she is still able to make him lose control. His bandaged hand rests for a minute over the pocket where the letter is, and then he remembered every word she has written.

Tom,

You must be wondering why after so many years I decided to write to you. The first thing you should know is that I'll love you until my last breath.

You and I never had a chance; unfortunately, not all stories have a happy ending. What we had was just an instant, an instant where we have become one. You gave me something, a part of you stayed with me. I got pregnant that night, Tom; we have a daughter. I gave our baby the name of Theresa. She inherited your eyes and your stubbornness.

I know that now you must be furious, because I have omitted something so important from you. Forgive me. I have taken from you important moments of her life, the first time she opened her eyes, her first smile, her first steps, her first word ... I had her past, but you will have her future.

It was selfish of me, I know, but in my defense, I did not want to put you in the position of choosing between your wife and me. I decided it for you. Because in my heart I knew who you would choose.

I knew how much you loved your wife. You made that very clear the following morning. So I disappeared from your life. I could not bear the idea of having you, only as my daughter's father. I wanted more, much more.

Our daughter is a good girl, strong, independent, intelligent. As a mother, I am biased towards her. But you will soon be able to see with your own eyes. I have no doubt that you will be a wonderful father.

It wasn't my intention to hurt her our daughter. I've told her a lot about the mission, about you, but talking about you only made your absence more painful for her. Maybe now you two can connect as father and daughter.

Forgive me for not telling you sooner about our daughter. I hope you can forgive me someday.

Rachel

For years, his existence has been empty, meaningless and hopeless, an aching emptiness that nothing can fill.

Now a child and her mother dare to pluck him out of his self-imposed exile to condemn him to hope. Theresa, only a name but already provokes strong emotions in him. He does not know if he will cry like a child or laugh like a fool in the face of a possibility to have a baby in his arms again.

He feels his heart open to that wonderful feeling that is to love again. It is like feeling the warmth of the sun after having lived years in complete darkness. He doesn't know if he's prepared to deal with it. If he will be completely honest with himself, he is terrified.

Mike smiles to himself as he watches his friend with his hand over the pocket of his jacket. He asks himself if Tom noticed that the letter rests on the left side above his heart, probably not.

The Captain of the Last Ship and the Scientist who made the cure would be reunited once more. He just hoped they will not kill themselves before they solved their problems. Of one thing, Mike is sure of, the meeting between Tom and Rachel is going to be explosive. Their friends deserve a second chance and Mike would do everything in his power to help them have it.