Wreckage - Mercer/McRae

[do]

Azati Prime
The Expanse
Stardate: 19.01.2169

The aftermath of a space battle is no different than any fought on land.

Like a field of battle that in a hundred years would be covered with tall poppies, the space above Azati would eventually move past the terrible conflicts fought above its skies. There would be only stars, glittering above the world, a canvas of myriad lights signifying the order of things shifting back into balance. However, the silence following the last blast of a canon or the final scream of the dying, did not go easily into the twilight.

As the stolen Xindi ship left the planet below it, striving to reach its fleet, the full measure of the battle fought quickly surrounded them in the thousand of bodies that floated through space like a moving graveyard. There was no stars to be seen, only the cold fragment of ships, equipment and anything else that had been torn apart during the fight. There was so much of it the small craft needed to navigate through the floating debris and flotsam, trying to reach its destination without collision.

Jake Mercer had tried to sleep after they left Azati, assuming that they would be back on Enterprise in a short time once they were airborne. However, what sleep he managed to get was brief because the sound of clanging against the hull awoke him abruptly.

"What the fuck..." he started to say when the words left him. He had been sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to Lt. Colonel Sloane McRae when he awoke and like her, he could only stare at what was on the other side of the cockpit window.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Sloane's tone dripped sarcasm and, shaking her head, she sighed. She was being unfair and she tried to take it back. "Sorry," this time she meant it, "it's just..."

There was nothing she could really say, was there? Since clearing Azati's atmosphere, Sloane had been the sole witness to what was left of the slaughter, Captain Mercer snoring softly next to her. Shock, disbelief and sheer dread warred within her for a front seat, giving her an odd sense of freefalling. She'd been monitoring all frequencies but so far...

"I can't even tell you who won." She spared him a glance, her features drawn, her skin pasty.

"Jesus," he managed to say, the shock of what he was seeing had shaken even his usual sardonic demeanour. The bodies out there were of every kind, he sighted Xindi, Human, Romulan....there were too many different types to name. "That explains why they didn't come find us," he managed to say.

Sloane didn't comment but nodded slightly. She'd been playing this rather sick and morbid version of 'Where's Waldo?' as she manoeuvred around the obstacle course, sometimes having to nudge a body as opposed to risking connecting with some explosive fragment. So far she'd even recognised some parts of a ship's name or their reg number. "The Excelsior's gone, and so is the Reliant." She hoped she wouldn't come across the Enterprise... God, how many had perished?

"You should have woke me," he said quietly as he watched the same horrific tableau as she did. Pieces of hull hurtled across the space before them, before flipping onto the sides as they ran into another fresh field of debris. "There's another one," he pointed out. A fragment of saucer section that had been cracked in half, appearing as if someone had carved into it, shattering the bridge like an egg. "NX-03..." he mused. "That's the Saratoga, isn't it?"

About to tell him why she hadn't been in a hurry to wake him up, Sloane turned to look where he was indicating. "Yeah..." she answered the question before the meaning of him asking it registered. "Shit." She blanched, her brain working what she saw before her at a thousand miles an hour. It wasn't that big a piece. Yes, it was. It was half the fucking bridge - right there.

"There's no way the overall hull integrity could have sustained such a breach," she heard herself say softly, tone flat. They would have escaped. They would have had time to evacuate.

Alex. God.

Suddenly in a panic, she tried to work the controls. "Fuck!" she growled, before she could finally start scanning for lifepods.

The surge of panic that appeared in her face at that moment was so sudden that for a moment, Jake wondered what he was seeing. Before this, there had been a muted if somewhat numb expression on her face, the look of someone who had seen so much destruction, she was shutting down. But this, this time it was different. He knew the look himself, he had seen it on the faces of those who had lost. Hell, he had seen it on himself once upon a time ago.

"What is it?" Jake asked, watching her hands fly over the controls, searching.

"I..." Sloane stared at the screen, waiting for a beep, a sign, *something*. A bump and screech brought her attention back up. "Shit." She manoeuvred the Xindi ship around another grouping of debris, her hand not as smooth at it as it had been a few moments before. She let out a shuddering breath, trying to bring herself under control again. She glanced at Mercer. "The captain of the Saratoga is a close friend of mine." Is. Not was. Not yet.

He guessed that much before she said it but hearing her say it out loud, made it real . Jake hesitated because condolences didn't seem like enough and for some reason, just enough didn't seem to be the right thing to use with this woman. An absurd thought flashed through his mind as he watched her trying not to break, trying not to show that she was as devastated as her eyes gave her away to be. He wanted to hold her like he had in the shitty hole of cave. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and let her bury her face in his arm and shed her tears. But the moment for that between them was past now.

Back in the real world, there was only one response he could give. "I'm sorry."

And it didn't feel like enough.

"I know." She was trying so hard to keep a cap on her emotions, to hang on to the hope that Alex and the Saratoga crew had made it out in time. She clung to it even if the chance of that was so remote. She had to. For Lexie and for Tom. She appreciated Mercer's simple words. His presence. She met his gaze briefly and then the sensors beeped and Sloane glanced down, holding her breath. Lifepods, make it lifepods...

But they weren't.

"I'm picking up ships now..." Dots on a starchart, some returning information in Xindi symbols, others that didn't. "I guess some Xindi ships," she said, her voice more controlled now. "And these are probably ours." She pointed out at a few on the edge of Azati space, moving in. Was that could news? She didn't feel elated. Then her finger moved to the closest dot. "I'd say Xindi, judging by all the details the computer's sprouting." Their own sensors reading their own fleet easily. "It's got weapons systems down and shields on the fritz." And suddenly, as she spoke, she realised she'd forgotten something vitally important when she'd started scanning for Alex and any other survivors. "Fuck." She killed the scanning routine instantly, waiting to see if their position had been picked up by another ship. Scanner Signatures 101, McRae, you dumbass.

"What is it now?" He asked, voice devoid of sarcasm, all seriousness. He watched the same sensors that she did and while some of it made a little sense to him, he wasn't the pilot, she was. He was trying to remain neutral, as constant as the northern star, because she needed someone to be strong for her. Oh fuck Jake, you're quoting Shakespeare for this woman. Still, she was holding it together, trying to keep them alive despite suffering what was clearly an unimaginable loss, he would do this for her if nothing else.

"We look in the clear..." For now. She let a ragged breath out. Chances were, if that Xindi ship was close enough to see them or pick them up on sensors, they were too busy with their own problems to care. "I fucked up." She looked at him. "It's a bit of a cat and mouse game. When you run active scans, you put yourself out there in the arena. You gather info but everyone else looking can see you too," she tried to explain. "And I was... trying to find any survivors." She ran a hand over her face. "With these ships close by, we have to be careful. Xindi might try to hail us and unless you can speak their language, they'll catch on - especially if our friends down on the planet have flagged us to their mates. And Starfleet, well..." That bit was obvious. Mercer and McRae were onboard a Xindi ship. If Sloane didn't find a way to communicate with Starfleet in an efficient manner, they would take them out on sight.

Jake hesitated, reaching for her, uncertain if the boundaries they had crossed earlier still held but there was so much sorrow in her face, he felt himself compelled to. His hand reached for her face and brushed her cheek gently. "It's okay," he said gently, as gently as his voice would allow without looking as if he had gone completely soft. "We'll figure it out."

It was the best he could to do share her solace without distracting her too much. His words were a prop to get her through this because there was no other way.

At first rooted in place, Sloane blinked at the touch, before her brow furrowed. What was he doing? She studied his face, handsome in his own way - and a weird thing to be musing about, she told herself, and it dawned on her. There was this thing between them. And he was feeling it too and this was his way of helping her shoulder her pain. Did he fear she would fall apart? She wouldn't. Damn it. His... kindness... it was unexpected and Sloane knew that if she gave into it, she would... she would break down and cry. She couldn't allow that.

Swallowing thickly, she had to hope her eyes conveyed her thanks because she couldn't trust her voice for the moment.

Seeing that what little he gave was enough, Jake lowered his hand but not before a thumb brushed lightly against her skin, stroking the way one would stroke a wounded animal in time of need. "What's the plan, Colonel?" He asked, using her rank to keep her mind off what she was seeing and what they needed to do to get out of this.

"I'm thinking..." She looked away, eyes front, because if she carried on looking at him, she wouldn't get anything done. There were more debris in this area in any case, like what two or more ships ramming into one another would leave behind, so she needed to focus. God, so much death. This was crazy. The battles in the Sol system had been black and bloody, but this was a whole new scale.

"I'm thinking that if I can send a signal to Lieutenant Commander Sato... she's our best linguist and Comm Officer," she added since she guessed Mercer might now have had a chance to meet all of the Bridge crew. "It might work. It would have to be something she'll recognise... something she'll know instantly that no Xindi could replicate." She looked at him. "You can pilot a shuttlecraft right? Because I'm gonna need you to take the helm for a bit."

"Yeah I'm rated for shuttle." Jake nodded, listening to her plan and admitting that it was a good one. "Sounds like it could work, if not we'll have to go with Morse code," he suggested.

"I think Starfleet wouldn't be convinced by Morse code. It's old but the Xindi have been studying our ways for many years now. That's something they could have picked up..." She checked the controls one last time and stood up. "Alright, come here."

As she moved, Jake shifted from his seat and in concert they changed places, making the exchange quite seamlessly as he took the helm for a bit. Like most MACO officers, he was rated to pilot a shuttle craft though he did not do it often. "You served on the Enterprise for a couple of years, right?" Jake said. "Doesn't Archer have a dog or something? Maybe that’s something…?" He suggested.

"More like twelve." She nearly smiled, fond of her time aboard. "But that's a good idea. I'll mention Porthos," she said, stepping back. She gave him a few pointers at what to look for on the Xindi controls and started rummaging through her gear.

Pulling out her Universal Translator, Sloane brought Mercer up to speed. "Years ago, during a meeting with some Kreetassans, a strange, symbiotic alien creature boarded Enterprise." It was a couple of years before her time but she knew of it, had heard Sato talk about it and Sloane, over the years, had read the reports. "It captured several crew members, tapping into their system somehow - heart, lung, brain... held them hostage... anyway, it's Hoshi who managed to decipher the alien's complex language. They managed to communicate and all ended well for the most part."

Sloane activated the translator and started browsing through all the different languages stored on there. "Bottom line is," she continued, glancing up, "it was a major breakthrough in terms of linguistics and if I go with that, I know Hoshi will recognise it for what it is. We never encountered that organism since. Even the Vulcans didn't know about them. They'll have to think it's from one of their own..."

Hell, she hoped Starfleet wouldn't think the Xindi would know of them and dismiss the attempt as some ploy. Nah. It was their best chance. Keying away on the device, Sloane started to construct a message. It was frustratingly slow because, hell, Sloane was no linguist.

Jake watched her moment as she tried to construct the message, the determination on her face and the insistence on keeping her mind on the job, despite what she had seen outside. "It's a plan." Was his only comment.

"Not convinced?" She looked up. "I'm open to suggestion... You might want to mind that," she pointed at the viewscreen when a large-ish piece of wreckage came into view just as Mercer looked her way.

"Shit," Jake replied, quickly manoeuvring the craft out of the way. "I'm convinced," he said. "Do what you have to." He wanted out of this floating graveyard as much as he did. Seeing all these ships, all the destruction was too reminiscent of Earth for his liking.

Sloane went with the ship banking suddenly, the movement too sudden for the inertial dampeners to compensate fully, and then went back to work. After a moment, she looked up again, feeling light-headed, almost out of breath. If she had had a paper bag handy, she probably would have stuck her face in it.

"Sorry," Jake shrugged, apologising for the sharp bank. "Haven't done this since Acheron. Most of the time, I’m happy to let Fleet do the flying."

She stared at him blankly, wondering what he was apologising for, her brain having moved onto something else. "Don't worry about that." She waved it away. "I was... I was just thinking." She let out another shuddering breath. All that destruction, them flying amongst it... the dead, the lost souls. It was eerie and even the ships that remained, on the outskirts, weren't even firing at each other. Like time was holding pattern in front of such atrocity or some shit. "If we hadn't failed our mission... if I..." She clamped her mouth shut, her lips now a thin line. Thinking like that would get her nowhere. Nofuckingwhere.

"We'd be dead like all these others." He nodded, having thought the same thing himself. "You can't think that," he said, meeting her sad eyes with an intense high powered gaze. "It's just the way shit happens." And again he reached for her with one hand, even though both should be on the controls. The need to touch was great, to let her feel contact she seemed to need right now.

Regarding his hand for a moment, she finally answered his offer, her hand grabbing his. Past the filth from the cave, there was warmth and she squeezed his hand in thanks. "Maybe, or maybe it would have turned out differently." Maybe if the city had fallen as planned... "Ifs and maybes, I know." They weren't worth shit. "I know." She glanced down at the translator in her lap. "I think I have it sussed. A couple more minutes." Back to business.

"Okay." He nodded, placing his hands back on the controls. Like her, they couldn't dwell on maybes. They didn't do anything wrong, no fuck up that allowed the mission to fail. The enemy had better defences, sometimes it just came down to that. "Sussed?" He looked at her.

"Yeah," she said absentmindedly then glanced up at him. "Worked out. Figured out. Blame my heritage."

"Crazy Limeys," he said under his breath, a slight smirk on his face as he said it. The moment was grim and perhaps the joke was out of place but there was enough tension in the small space as it was. He wanted to distract her from that debris field outside for as much as he could.

"Careful who you call a Limey," Sloane returned good-naturedly, putting on her full native accent. "I'm bloody Welsh."

"There a difference?" He looked at her with a slight smirk.

She snorted. "Americans..." She returned his smirk despite their current situation. "There. I think I'm done. Couldn't find the right equivalent for 'dog' so that should be interesting..." Now she needed a way to transmit without putting a bullseye on their asses.

"It will be fine," Jake retorted, watching the flotsam hurtling across the cockpit window, trying not to notice that there were also bodies amongst the wreckage.

Sitting forward, getting a bit into Mercer's personal space due to the location of the console, she got into the Xindi ship's comm system, recognising some symbols but guessing a lot of them too. She used the Universal Translator for the rest. It took her a while to think about it and then... "Got it," she spoke more for her own benefit than Mercer's. "I'll send the message on the back of a tachyon pulse. Faster than subspace but limited in size. Should be perfect." She hooked her device into the system. "Let's just hope Enterprise is out there and listening..."

He almost told her not to lean over like that because concentrating on flying a shuttle after so long without practice was hard enough with out that damn scent getting in the way. As it was, it swirled around his head, eliciting odd feelings, making him considerate and carrying out some half assed attempt at charm. "We'll know soon enough." He met her gaze.

Drawn in, she look at the blue-grey of his eyes for a moment that seemed to stretch on. Suddenly blinking, she sat back. "Yes." Her attention went back to outside, to the sea of black and wreckage and bodies.

"Maybe we should lower the blast shields down," he suggested. It would be harder to fly without the visuals of the cockpit and they'd have to rely on the instrumentation to navigate through the debris but at least, it would stop her from looking at the wreckage which was taking its toll on her.

Misunderstanding his reason for the suggestion, she turned to him. "Oh, sorry. I'm done. Come on, I'll take the helm back."

"I've got the hang of it," he replied and then tried a different tact. "I don't want to see anyone I know out there." Jake didn't have a problem with it but she would have trouble admitting it, part of that Battle Bitch armour, he supposed.

She raised an eyebrow at that. Maybe her decision of not waking him up earlier had been a good one then. Mercer didn't seem the type to worry about such things, as seasoned and badass as he looked, but she didn't know him very well. 'And we all have our limits,' she thought to herself. If it was the truth, then there was no point making him look at it. His admission must have cost him enough.

"I guess I don't either," she lied, trying to spare his male ego. Not that he struck her as having a huge one but he was MACO and she'd been around MACO long enough to not take any chances. "Let's swap then, Captain." If they were going to be relying on Xindi nav instrumentation, better her than him.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered and yet that bit of courtesy sounded suggestive despite his best effort not to make it so. Like the kind of thing you'd say to a woman in sexual role-playing. So now the time to dwell on that Jay, he told himself. With the same concert as earlier, they exchanged seats.

After a few seconds of trial and error, Sloane brought the blast shields down. It seemed to close with such finality and she instantly felt like she was doing the dead a dishonour. Shutting out their last resting place. It was why she had kept on looking. She felt she owed them that. Fellow soldiers, colleagues, friends. She owed them to be... strong enough. She eyed Mercer before her gaze went to the navigation screen.

"Keep an eye on the comms... it should sound if anything comes in."

"Okay." He nodded and glanced at the com panel where any kind of communication indicator would likely to originate. They sat in silence for a good while, largely because he didn't know what to say to her because she was trying to do the job instead of grieving but the occasional thud against the hull, dull and impotent reminded them what was out there.

"The Captain of the Saratoga," he asked. "You were close?"

Sloane bristled at the past tense he used. "Are," she said, shoulders tensing. "I'm stupidly hoping she made it." She kept her eyes on the screen because she didn't want to see a look of ridicule on Mercer's face. Or pity, even. "I know that logically, the odds are fucking bad, alright, so save it," she warned him, letting him know she wasn't totally off her nut.

"Sorry," he replied, feeling like a dumbfuck because he had hoped to make her feel better and had only rubbed salt in the wound. "So you and her are close?"

Sloane closed her eyes for a second before looking at him. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bite your head off... yes, we're close. Bridesmaid at her wedding, aunty to her daughter... that kind of close. Served with her husband too. A MACO. A good man." She didn't get into the fact that if she'd gotten to know Alex at all, it was through Tom. "I... I don't have that many friends. The ones I have..." She let trailed, not able to finish.

"I'm sure she's fine," he said gently but if he was lying and she probably knew it. However the hope was faint and she needed to keep it in sight. "Starfleet captains have a way of landing on their feet. Kind of like Sharks." He half smiled.

He was allowing her that little fantasy and she decided not to call him on it. He read her well enough to sense she needed it. And boy was he right. "Yes, they do." She wondered why he was being so nice. Most new captains gave her a hard time, tested her limits, wanting to check if all they'd heard about the Battle Bitch was right. Mercer wasn't like that. "You have anyone you think might be... out there?"

Jake didn't have friends. He had comrades and the few who hadn't died on the Farragut were now at the bottom of the sea somewhere in Azati Prime. "No," he said simply.

His negative should have been good news but she got the sense it wasn't. Recalling the fate of his previous ship posting, she guessed he would have lost many then. And earlier today... or was it yesterday now? "It's been a shitty day."

"No kidding," he agreed and thought of the faces lost, starting with Ely and Joey and culminating in Doyle today, he had felt the first two and by the time the last had come around, he had protected himself from feeling any loss again. It was safer. Suddenly, he caught the light flashing on the comm panel. "Hey." He nodded towards it.

"Shit, really?" Sloane had only half-expected the thing to work. She reached and hit a key. If was in that weird entity's language, she'd need the translator and another musical chair swap but she wanted to check first. Hell, for all she knew it could be Xindi...

"You tell me?" He looked to her, adhering to her expertise in authenticating the message. He hoped to hell it was the Enterprise though.

She leaned in. "Well, I'll be damned." She recognised one of their usual ciphers for coded signals and this came in on a Starfleet security channel. "This got to be genuine. Scroll down..." She saw a series of coordinates appear. "A meeting point. Looks like we have a date," she said with some relief. At least she got to bring one home.

"Never doubted you for a minute," he said with that sardonic half smile.

Once the Lieutenant Colonel was able to recalibrate the sensors to hone in on the particular frequency of Starfleet coded signals, it was a simple business of rendezvousing with the Enterprise. The flagship was amassed on the edge of Xindi space, with a smaller force than the thirty-five ships they had journeyed with during their last engagement with the Xindi. Enterprise had probably been one of the few ships that had held its own and the fleet assembled with it originated from the other worlds of the Alliance.

The small Xindi ship flew within tractor beam distance of the Enterprise before being towed the rest of the way in. On the off chance that this was indeed a Xindi trick, their return to the ship was met with a phalanx of phase rifles aimed in their direction until they showed themselves.

Jake forgot home much he loved homecomings with Fleet.

Standing at the base of the ramp jutting out of the back of the Xindi ship, Sloane glanced at Mercer.

"I think they're happy to see us," she cracked before turning back to the MACO Gunny, standing before them, at a safe distance.

"Brennan, thanks for the red carpet, but you shouldn't have..." There was an interesting mix of relief, surprise and disbelief on his face... hell, on everyone's faces. It was obvious McRae and her crew had been assumed dead when it became clear the mission had failed.

"Colonel McRae."

It was Commander T'Pol. Sloane looked up and saw the Vulcan woman on the mezzanine above the launch bay. She was about to answer when Dr. Phlox's voice filled the space.

"Please, have Lieutenant Colonel McRae and Captain Mercer escorted to the decontamination chamber immediately. And keep your distances."

"What?" Sloane looked down at herself. They were still covered in muck. God only knew what they could have picked up in that cave.

"You are both scanning positive, Colonel." The disembodied voice of the Denobulan doctor again. "You were exposed to a micro-organism much similar to the Protocystian spore."

T'Pol's eyebrow arched. "Is it not from Rigel X?" They were far from Rigel space.

"Much similar, Commander," Phlox repeated himself. "Please. Immediately."

Jake didn't know the NX-01's command crew the way McRae knew them. Since coming on board, he had a passing knowledge of them but little more than that, not the way McRae knew them. Therefore the news that they were going to be shunted straight into decon just pissed him off. Particularly after everything that had gone on between them on the planet. He needed fresh air, some space to clear his head and right now, he was getting an overload of McRae, which was playing all kinds of havoc with his internal gyroscope.

"Can we at least get a shower?" Jake asked as he looked at the security officers waiting to escort them.

Sloane glanced at Mercer, noting the slight annoyance in the Captain and couldn't fault him for it. She was resenting the detour as well.

"There are showers adjacent to the decon chamber, Captain," Dr Phlox said in a patient tone, much like he was addressing children. A tone that, even after all this time, still annoyed the hell out of Sloane.

"Alright, alright," Sloane muttered, knowing the procedure. She lifted her gaze to T'Pol. She had so many questions. The quicker they did this, the quicker she would get a sitrep. A sense of urgency pooled in her stomach and made her queasy.

"Colonel." T'Pol's voice, always so monotone, coloured more easily nowadays and Sloane caught that the woman was relieved she was back. "Captain Archer will be contacting you for a debrief."

Jake didn't like the sound of that but he was grateful that they could at least get cleaned up before they had to slop decon gel over each other like mating eels. Great choice of words there, Jay.

"Come on," Sloane said quietly, leading Mercer past the Security and MACO contingent to enter the decon area. It offered very little privacy. Even the two showers were separated by a mere half wall with no curtains or doors. The little room beyond, the actual decon chamber, was not much bigger than a turbolift.

The door slid shut behind them and, feeling him rather antsy, Sloane threw Mercer an apologetic look before she turned and started to peel her clothes off.

Shit, he thought to himself again and did the same, reminding himself that if he stepped into the shower when this was a world of co-ed showers, she was going to know something was up. Stripping down, he forced himself not to look at her as she undressed, though blue eyes occasionally stole a traitorous glimpse before he stepped into the cubicle and ran the water.

Jake set it for cold.

Stepping out of her boots, she kicked them away, just like the trousers and her slip right after that. "They're gonna-" She turned around and stopped, forgetting for a second what she was mumbling about as she caught the back of Mercer, the tattoos on his skin, and especially a piece of his anatomy she had no business staring at. With a smirk, she shook her head and stepped under the other spray.

"They're gonna have to burn our stuff," she said, pulling back a bit to catch the profile of his face, to see if he'd heard her. 'God, this feels like heaven,' she thought as she pushed her head into the hot water, almost moaning. Sticky with grime, she started scrubbing.

This was fucking ridiculous. He wasn't some teenager. He was 34 years old for fuck sake and right now, while he stood beneath a cold shower, letting the icy water do its work, all he could think of was that she was on the other side of this wall, soaping herself. His mind went places it should not go and Jake found himself turning the spray of cold water even more.

"Or launch it at the Xindi," he remarked regarding their clothes. "The stink might win us the war."

Sloane chuckled at that. It was mirthless but he'd managed a chuckle out of her nonetheless. In fact, it wasn't lost on her how he'd been a silent support throughout. Mostly silent. The man spoke more than he let on.

She pulled back again to look at him, her hair saturated with a third lather of shampoo. "You're having it cold?" At first she thought she'd dreamed the chill but now she felt it near her feet, where hers and his water merged to the common drain.

"Yeah," Jake shot her a look through the wall, "I like it cold." Bullshit. "Wakes you up," he replied, wincing as soon as he said it because it just sounded plain weak. "You're having it warm, right, like most women?"

She eyed him like he had grown a second head, for a moment not guessing what could be troubling him. And then it dawned on her. Typical, freaking MACO. She should be flattered. Hell, she was. Sorta.

"Yeah, must be a women thing... but I think it's more to do with me being irresistible and all. Come on, Mercer. Snap out of it and turn the hot water on before you catch your death." She wasn't offended; she'd seen plenty of that and worse. Close quarters between men and women did that. And in the military rare were the blokes who even tried to hide it, much preferring to flaunt it in front of their mates, trying to make their female counterparts intimidated and uncomfortable.

Jake cursed under his breath and reacted by thunking his head lightly against the ceramic. "Well you are pretty irresistible," he remarked sardonically and was grateful to get the feeling back in his body by turning on the hot water not to mention diffuse that balloon of sexual tension that had been driving him crazy. Another notch in her favour, he thought, that she was able see through his bullshit so easily. That too was rare for him.

Sloane shook her head, sort of smiling because this was Mercer, the guy she'd gotten cosy with in a Xindi hole of all places. She rinsed her hair quickly and turned the tap off. Stepping out of the shower, she grabbed one of the towels Phlox had left there for them, suddenly back to feeling anxious about getting the decon over so she could get some answers.

"Was it just me or they were all a bit... weird out there?" She started saying as she dried herself. "I mean I get that they probably had us down as KIA but..." Hell, maybe they were all shell-shocked or something. "I guess the battle was fierce." Actually, no guessing there; that much was a given.

From what they had seen off that debris field, it wasn't much of a battle and more like a rort. "It looks like we took some heavy losses out there, Colonel," Jake said, drying himself and slipping on the skivvies left behind. "We lost a couple of capital ships."

"Yeah..." No kidding. Still, the vibe in the launch bay had been... weird. She couldn't think of a better word for it. She put on the horrible blue underwear and entered the decon chamber. The second they both got in, an inner door closed, sealing them from the little shower area. A hatch slid open and Dr. Phlox's face appeared.

"Colonel, Captain," he greeted them. "You will find the proper gel on the shelf. Apply generously. This will be over in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Doctor. When can I speak with the Captain?" Sloane asked, itching to ask about the Saratoga and any undergoing rescue efforts.

"Soon, I presume. Go on. Gel first, Colonel." Phlox slid the hatch closed and the ultraviolet lights came on, turning the cramped chamber aglow with blue.

"Fuck," Sloane swore under her breath, impatience getting the better of her.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water, Jake thought, as he picked up the gel and started smearing it across his arms and body, trying not to pay too much attention to her her when she did the same. However, he could also see that she was starting to get more and more insistent on learning the truth about the Saratoga and judging by the amount of debris out there, Jake bet that Archer's news wouldn't be good.

She took a big handful of the stuff and, handing the jar back to Mercer, she tried to ignore the fact he was bloody damn irresistible himself. A notion that flew out of her head as soon as she started applying the gel to her legs and thighs, and then moving on to her arms. It reminded her of Lexie. Of Alex reading about soothing massages for babies who refused to sleep because of nasty bouts of colic.

Why hadn't Archer already come around? Surely he needed to debrief them... and Sloane could sure do with an update. She was head of the MACOs on the this boat, damn it. How were the rescue efforts going? Or was it so damn bad no one wanted to talk about it? It couldn't be worse than losing Earth and its colonies and they had survived that, carried on doing their duty. No, maybe Archer had bigger fish to fry as the fleet gathered up again. Maybe an other assault was in the works.

"I could do more out there," she muttered to herself, hitting the comms.

"Doctor, may I speak with Captain Archer, please?"

Obviously being watched on camera, Sloane wasn't surprised at all when Phlox pointed out they hadn't finished with the gel. Humouring him, she tied a knot in her wet hair and lifted her top to give her back to Mercer, all the while giving a death stare at the camera. "Getting your jollies, Doctor?"

Jake took the gel and dug his fingers into the substance before approaching her. He took a moment to admire the train, smooth, muscled but with enough curve to be very much woman. Clearing his throat, he spread the gel liberally across the small of her back, rubbing into the skin and trying to ignore the fact that touching her that way, was more affecting than he would like to admit. He did not speak though, allowing her to continue her battle with Phlox, hoping the distraction would make her oblivious to the fact that he was more deliberate that he ought to be with his touch.

"Colonel, I assure you..." Phlox retorted before cutting the communication.

"Argh!" She growled in frustration. The clock was ticking. How long had it been, fifteen, twenty minutes? Maybe more since they had made it onboard. Not knowing was eating at her and suddenly, this constant caress, warm and strong on her skin, flashed to the front of her mind. Her goddamn body was responding to it and Sloane turned around, stealing the jar from Mercer.

"Thanks. I think that's quite enough," she snapped. Fuck her sideways, it was the captain who was getting his damn jollies. "Turn around."

"Sorry," Jake turned around. "Told you, you were irresistible," he said, man enough not to make excuses. Grateful not to be slugged, Jake waited for her to do him and maybe they could get to their corners and try to get through these next few hours without him doing anything else as stupid.

Sloane pulled a face. "Don't apologise. Besides, it's my turn now," she said for effect, with no intention on being inappropriate. She got another handful and put the jar down. Bringing her hands together, she warmed the stuff up a bit before applying it on his back, her hands splayed out. She followed his spine up to his broad shoulders before starting to really try to work the topical gel in. She couldn't help noticing the feel of him beneath her hands but this was neither the time nor place.

"Nice bird," she said, commenting on the tattoo adorning his right shoulder. "Aztec?" Better talk about that than rage about being stuck in here. Better with Mercer anyhow than with someone like Kemper. Kemper would already be dead.

"Yeah," Jake said with a faint smile, closing his eyes a little as he took in the sensation of her hands against his back, her strong fingers working his flesh. It felt.. nice. Refusing to play coy, Jake did not hide the reaction her working him but he didn't make comment on it either. "Yeah, thanks to a bottle of tequila and too much time on my hands."

"It looks good." Sometimes things that happened on a booze up weren't all bad. "But I really like this one." Her hand went down to nudge his right forearm where a nice dragon was wrapped around it. She didn't even think what he would think about her noticing it. Not after falling asleep in his arms and breathing his skin for half a day. Besides, he wasn't afraid about letting her know he didn't mind her proximity.

"Thanks," he said quietly, allowing her to look, not telling her that each tattoo was for a member of his family lost. He had three. Each time he got drunk, he somehow seemed to add to the collection of the dead on his body. Branding himself in more ways than he liked.


~~~~


Jonathan Archer was happy to hear that Lt. Colonel McRae had made it back alive. After the losses of the day, it was nice to have success to note in the Captain's Log. However, it would be the only one so far.

The attack fleet that should have won a decisive victory against the Xindi today lay in tatters. They had believed that the Xindi Planet Killer had been destroyed. They were wrong and it had taken damn near 35 ships and the rest of the Alliance fleet to destroy it. The battle was won with significant losses on each side but the damn cost.

Now he would have to go down the Lt. Colonel, whom by all accounts was cussing a righteous storm trying to learn what had happened to the fleet, and he would have to tell her that her friend, Captain Alexandra Merrick had been lost with all hands on board the NX-03 Saratoga.

Approaching the decon chamber, he let out a sigh and wished after so many deliveries, telling this kind of news got easier.

It didn't.


~~~~


Sloane finished, her hands smoothing down the planes of his back one last time. "Done," she said, before stepping away. She finished her front and readjusted her top as she took a seat on the bench. Mercer was quiet now and it allowed Sloane to withdraw. Leaning against the wall behind her, she closed her eyes slowly. She tried to relax and let the UV radiation do its work. Clear your mind, T'Pol would tell her.

How much longer of this? She should be out there, searching for survivors. For Alex. Or hell, maybe the captain had already been saved. Could she allow herself to hope for that much? Her heart constricted, her whole chest feeling a horrible weight settling on it.

Her eyes snapped open again, staring at the opposing wall.

Reaching the decon chamber, Archer glanced inside through the glass square on the door and tapped lightly. "Lt. Colonel," he said formally.

Sloane was on her feet so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. "Sir."

"I'm glad you're back safe and sound," Jon said, looking at the glass not only at the colonel but her companion. "Both of you."

Jake was on his feet, the same as Sloane, nodding at the man slightly. Producing the best attention pose he could in what he was currently wearing.

"Thank you, Sir. Glad you're safe too." Him, the ship, his crew. "My apologies... we were unable to carry out the mission, Sir. The others..." Sloane glanced at Mercer. "They didn't make it."

Jake met her gaze briefly, sharing the loss, but knew that there was more than just those deaths to prepare themselves for. Even if she couldn't see it in Archer's eyes, he could. The man had news and it was nothing that the Colonel was going to want to hear.

"I'm sorry to hear that, McRae," Jon answered with a heavy sigh. "We would have come sooner to retrieve you but we didn't think anyone survived and we've had a few problems of our own," he said hesitatingly.

Nodding, Sloane said, "We figured as much, even before we made it off Azati. We improvised." She gave Mercer another look, proud and grateful for the man had helped her along, before she turned back to Archer. "Look, Sir. We saw... well, we had to fly through it and the Reliant, Excelsior and many more..." She couldn't bring herself to name Alex's ship. "They're gone, that much is clear, but any survivors? Are lifepods being retrieved?" She was getting worked up despite her efforts and her training, despite knowing better. "As soon as Phlox clears me I'll head out, Captain."

Jon maintained a neutral expression as he spoke, "We're still conducting our search, Colonel. It's too early to tell. I'm sure that when we have more definite data, we'll let you know."

Jake did not react but that told him quite a bit. There were no survivors, Archer just didn't know how to say it. "When will that be, Sir?"

He knew the Colonel wasn't going to accept the answer.

Jon threw him a look. "When we have completed out survey of the area."

It was there, wasn't it? In Captain Archer's eyes. Survey of the area... when she had run the scans, she had only locked on bigger ships - no pods. It was there but Sloane didn't want to see it. "Then let me out of here, Sir, so I can do help. You must need all able bodies."

"I'm sorry, Colonel." Jon was shaking his head. "That's not going to happen. You need to undergo decon according to Dr. Phlox and we have all the people we need to conduct the... survey," he replied.

Jake watched the woman, tensing because this wasn't going to go down well. She could be oblivious for so long but eventually she'd put two and two together and come up with the truth.

Sloane zeroed in on Archer's hesitation like a shark on a surfer's leg. It felt like a fucking cold shower. Now so rigid if there was a breeze she would snap, she took a step. "There is no survey, isn't there?" She regarded the Enterprise Captain, all common sense leaving her. "You're not even looking."

"Colonel," Jon replied evasively, "perhaps this isn't the best time to discuss this."

Jeez, why don't you fucking come out and say it, Jake thought almost rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I beg to differ. Sir." Sloane's fists tightened. "If there's a survey, then let me out. There are lives at stake. Captain, we've been in here pickling away for long enough."

"There are other people who can take care of that," he said, starting to retreat. Even a starship captain knew when a strategic withdrawal was prudent. "You need to decontaminate." He looked past her to the Captain, trying to see if he could be of any help.

Jake wasn't about to let Archer of the hook. He needed to tell the woman the truth. She needed to hear it.

"Captain!" Sloane got close the glass when she sensed him about to flee. "What's going on? What the hell happened out there?"

"Colonel." Jake put her hand on her shoulder. "Come on. They'll debrief us when they've got some news."

"No." She shook his hand off. "They know. He knows."

Her gaze back on the window, she could no longer see Archer. "Captain!" She pushed her face to the glass, smearing it with the damn gel. "You know something. Goddamn it, Archer, what happened to the Saratoga? What happened?"

Archer was retreating because he felt as if he should be telling her the truth, should be saying it face to face, not through glass.

"Archer!" Sloane's fist connected with the door, the pain resonating along her arm. "Let me out. They're out there. She's ou-" Her voice cracked, desperate. "Open the damn door, you sona-"

"Sloane." Jake slid his arm around her waist and hauled her away from the door, bringing them both to one of the benches. "Enough," he said softly as he sat down with her and held her there. "Let it go."

"Just..." She tried to get back to the door. "Fuck, Mercer." She fought in his hold, trying to get back to her feet. "I need to... just let me-"

She was gone.

No.

"Archer, you chickenshit! Phlox!" She tried to get away from Mercer.

Alex was gone.

"I can't... she can't... shit."

Jake nodded sombrely, not quite pinning her against the wall, but close to it. "I'm sorry but someone's got to call it."

Archer was a chickenshit but mostly because she couldn't be afforded this kind of contact while they were in here.

"No..." It was a near wail and Sloane tried to push him away before she pivoted to face the wall, skin slipping easily on gelled-up skin. She hit head against the wall a couple of times, angry and hurting, but she wasn't fighting the truth anymore. She'd known. She'd just ignored it. She'd dared to hope. Face pressed to the soft glowing wall, tears came, unbidden. "Jesus..."

When Jake heard that soft sound coming from her, he recognised the resignation and acceptance. "I'm sorry, Sloane," he said as gently as he could, arms moving around hers in a gesture of comfort, an invitation for an embrace if she needed it. It was important to him to offer her comfort but didn't know if it would be accepted. He brushed a strand of damp hair from her shoulders and wished he could grieve with her. He was past that, had been for a long time. He felt for Sloane's anguish but he didn't feel it himself.

People died in wars, he had said to her earlier.

Those were the rules.

Sloane didn't fight it. She wasn't fighting anything anymore. She felt Mercer's arms around her and she turned a little toward him, leaning into his chest and letting him pull her to him. What was it that fate seemed to want to keep bouncing them into each other, locking them up in tight spaces? But she didn't dwell on that. No. Alex was in her minds eye. Alex and Lexie on a sunny day at the park. What used to be near weekly events for Sloane joining them when she could, would now only be a memory.

Her eyes brimming with tears again, she turned her head and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Holding her close, allowing her to expunge her sorrow into his flesh, Jake held her like the tender thing she was underneath all that brass and armour. He didn't understand why she brought this out in him, this need to be human after so long, staring through the looking glass, turning his nose at the frailty of the human race. This need to connect with her on an emotional level had been churning in his gut since that fucking cave, when the scent of her had started deconstructing this fortress he built around himself, chipping away at it until now he was here, holding her because he couldn't stand to see her cry.

Fuck, she was going to get him killed.

The tears eventually abated, leaving Sloane feeling empty... empty and so damn tired. After Earth, she had promised herself she wouldn't get close to anyone again. It was safer that way. But then Merrick had come, with his smirks and wiseass cracks. Hayes and Rickman, well... there was probably a handful of people she had let herself care for since. Brennan, T'Pol, Bryce. Styles and her beautiful ways. True friends. And now Alex was gone. Sloane had been kidding herself.

"You must think me a fool," she said quietly.

Resting his head against hers just a little, he replied, "Only for thinking I think that." He answered, not looking at her, just allowing her to rest wearily against him. It was a long day with some pleasant highs and soul crushing lows. She was allowed to feel, allowed to be human. A small part of him envied that she could do that since it burned out of him long ago.

~~~~

Phlox moved across sickbay, amongst cages and vivariums, feeding and watering his wildlife. The other half of the large space was still busy but the earlier state of emergency had passed. All the critical cases had been handled and his medical staff went about their business, caring for the remaining patients.

As he worked, he kept an eye on the screen monitoring the decontamination chamber. He had never seen McRae react in this way to anything - as stoic sometimes as the Iron Colonel - and, while he wouldn't show it, he had gone and prepared a hypospray in case the woman's tormented state reached critical. Glancing at the clock, he noted the two MACOs in there had been quiet and asleep for the better part of the last hour. In fact, their vital signs told him they were about to enter REM sleep.

"I best go rouse them," he spoke to himself, as he closed the last cage.

~~~~

Standing at the door, Phlox smiled as he gazed upon the Captain and the Lieutenant Colonel. Something else he had never seen very often with McRae. Over the years he had caught a glimpse of the MacHayes dynamic, how the two cared for each other, but he had never seen McRae quite this... abandoned against another man, much less one of hers. He idly wondered what had happened on Azati besides the obvious as something had definitely brought those two soldiers together.

He cleared his throat loudly.

Jake didn't know at what point he fell asleep but when he heard the noise, he opened his eyes and felt the warm sensation of McRae lying against his body. He looked up and saw Phlox standing there, watching, and immediately felt uncomfortable. A sensation not wholly like anxiety ran through Jake because what he had been earlier with her was also chipping away at that well placed armour he had won for the last twelve years. He shifted position so that she'd awaken to without him having to say her name.

Woken up by the movement, Sloane cracked an eye open, heavy from sleep, before everything came back to her all at once. She sat up bolt right, goosebumps covering her skin at the sudden loss of heat. She shuffled and finished untangled herself from Mercer before she looked at him, finding her feet. "Sorry," she said quietly, her eyes also telling him 'thank you'.

Embarrassed by her behaviour from earlier and for allowing Phlox to see them this way, Sloane turned to the Denobulan rather stiffly. "Doctor."

"Colonel." Phlox was still smiling that enigmatic smile of his.

"Captain?" With a medical tricorder in hand, he waited for Mercer to stand up as well.

Showing no signs of earlier anxiety, Jake stood up slowly, allowing the sleep to be shaken out of his limbs. He still felt like he needed a couple of hours of sleep, not to mention solitude in order to clear the storm of moths in his head right now. "Doctor," he replied, adding to the almost caricature back and forth between the three as they attempted to dispel the clearly awkward moment.

Seemingly satisfied, the doctor lifted the tricorder and began scanning the pair.

"I suspect you'll both be happy to know that you are cleared of that nasty spore."

"Good," Sloane said, her face outwardly calm while inside she was downright mortified, remembering everything she had hurled at Archer and worse - how bloody damn good she had felt in Mercer's arms. "Thanks for everything. Are we free to go?"

"That would be yes, unless there are other medical problems you need my attention for?" His scans told him Mercer and McRae were physically uninjured but he still didn't quite know what had taken place on Azati and how the others had perished.

"I'm good," Sloane said rather quickly.

"Mercer, you good?" She looked at him, expecting him to be feeling like she was - wanting to get the hell out of there ASAP.

"I'm swell," he said shortly, almost twitching beneath the skin to get out of the place.

"Obviously, you're free to go," the Denobulan remarked, observing this fascinating interplay between the sexes. He hadn't seen a display like this since Tucker and T'Pol were trapped in decon together.

"Colonel," Jake said, not waiting to be dismissed, convinced that she would be just as happy to see him leave as he was to make his escape.

Sloane watched him leave and then narrowed her eyes on Phlox, daring him to say anything. Standing tall like she was in full uniform, she walked out and grabbed the robe left there for her near the showers.

The doctor said nothing but he was observing keenly. While he was convinced that nothing of a sexual nature transpired during their time in the decon chamber, he also wondered if he had perhaps fallen into his annual hibernation early and missed it. In either case, the doctor waited until his sickbay emptied before going to the cage where two vermillion tree coots were coiling around each other, preparing for their mating dance.

"Infinitely less complicated," he remarked and went about his day.


end.