Houston, Texas, in the Clarke Home, Monday, August 12th, 2030 at 7:00 pm

Lucas

Why didn't I tell her my plan? She was right, I spent eight months up in space doing nothing but thinking about her and how to get her back. I had answers to her questions but I just couldn't get the words out correctly. She asked me to promise her, but I couldn't.

Why?

I didn't want to leave again, but I still couldn't say anything.

I never completely say what I'm thinking to her. Rachel tends to hold onto every word you say, especially when it hurts her.

Over the years I had slowly started to say less and less when we got into arguments because I just didn't want her to have anything additional to be upset with me about. Tonight, however, was not a night I should've held back. I should've said everything I had in my head even if it upset her more. At least I would've said more of the right things, too.

I cleared the dining table and started doing the dishes.

Rachel hates mess, especially in the kitchen.

It was always spotless, even while she was cooking or baking something. I heard the shower turn on. There was chopped onion and tomato on multiple cutting boards, bowls with remnants of ingredients, sauce on the counter tops, pots with food in them on the stove.

If she sees this she is going to feel even more stressed.

I cleaned all of the counters and loaded the dishwasher.

I will start it later, I don't want to interfere with Rachel's shower.

She always takes the hottest showers. I have tried to tell her that it's part of the reason she has dry skin, but she doesn't care. She just waves her hand at me and says that she enjoys feeling like a freshly cooked lobster. I laughed a little as I wiped up some sauce off the floor.

She always made me laugh. Her sense of humor was broad, and she could make friends with almost anyone. Whenever we would go out with friends they were always groups that Rachel found. Whether she was at work, in line at the coffee shop, or on one of her weekly thrift shopping trips with Anne, Rachel made friends. Cooper was the only person who I have befriended first, and I was glad I did. Anne was a great friend for Rachel to have; someone who understands. I didn't know what I would do without someone like Cooper while I was in space.

I should be preparing for what I was going to say to Rachel when she comes down.

I listened closely. The shower was still running. I could feel my heart racing.

I have to say the right thing to her, I can't lose her.

The kitchen was all cleaned up but I could still hear the water moving through the pipes.

If I try to sit down and wait for her, I'll lose my mind. I need to go do something.

I headed down the hallway past the dining room and towards my office. The walls were covered from one end to the next in pictures.

Most of them are of Rachel and me.

I passed our prom photo and some pictures of us at football games. On the other side of the wall I saw our wedding pictures. Photos full of family and friends who came out to celebrate us that day. Rachel looked stunning in her long, white, lace gown. Her hair was in a low bun with braids leading back. Her side bangs loosely curled against her cheeks. Her bridesmaids wore flowing emerald gowns and the groomsmen had on emerald vests under their suit jackets.

Rachel loved green and I loved dark colors, so we compromised on the theme. It was a smaller wedding in terms of budget because Rachel and I had just graduated from college. Our parents surprised us by renting out a winery for the day. I glanced at a photo of Rachel with her mom. She doesn't look much like her mom, but there is some resemblance there when you see a photo of them together. Rachel and her sister, Sophie, however, are difficult to tell apart in some photos. This was the last photo Rachel took with her mom before she passed away. April 19 end reading

The door to my office was closed. I hadn't been in this room since before I left. When I opened the door, the smell of lemon cleaner hit my nose. I flipped on the lamp by my desk and just barely closed the door so I could still hear the shower running. It was much cleaner than I remembered. I could see fresh vacuum lines in the navy and white diamond patterned rug. The dark wooden floor was shiny under the light of the lamp.

Did she clean my office last night?

I ran my hand along my bookshelf and I started to smile. My books had been freshly dusted.

She did want me to come home.

I could feel my chest beaming with joy as my heart pounded. Although my office was very clean, it did appear unorganized. My papers and notebooks were in the same place I left them. I started to stack papers together and moved some folders around. These were all from smaller projects I had been tweaking.

The scent of lemons hit my nose again as I moved the papers to the side. She even wiped down my desk and put the papers back. I could feel my cheeks burning from how hard I was grinning to myself. It's these small acts that Rachel does that remind me she loves me.

She cleans around my clutter so as to not disrupt my process.

My desk always looks messy but to me there is a system.

I know exactly what I'm going to say to her when she comes down.

I was so focused on looking around my office that I didn't notice the shower had turned off. My heart started pounding and I began to feel nauseous.

How long has she been out?

I opened the door and headed out of my office and back down the hall.

Everything was quiet, but I could hear a faint whimper from the kitchen. I came around the corner and saw Rachel leaning against the island in the middle. Her long, wet hair had created a darker ring on the back of her old NYU t-shirt.

I think she wears it at least once a week to sleep.

Her head was in her hands and I could tell that she was crying.

Oh no, how long has she been down here?

I could feel my chest start to tighten. She must've thought that I left. The pressure started swelling in my chest as I saw how much pain she was in.

Before I knew it, I was walking over to her. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and held her as tightly as I could without hurting her.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry," I said against her neck. "I'm going to do everything I can to fix this," my chest started to feel damp against her freshly washed hair. I could smell the sweetness of her shampoo. I pleaded with her and told her how much she meant to me.

"I can't lose you, Rach. I love you more than anything," I could feel her muscles start to relax as she turned around. She buried her face against my chest, and I had never felt a bigger feeling of relief before.

I placed one hand on the back of her head and the other I secured around her waist. We cried together for a long time before she pulled away slightly. She put her hand on my cheek and gazed up at me lovingly. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and her long lashes appeared darker from her tears. When she told me that she loved me too, I kissed her on the forehead and pulled her back against me.

We are going to fix this, we have to.

#

Houston, Texas, in Dr. Wilson's Office, Thursday, September 12th, 2030 at 3:55 pm

Lucas

I wipe my face with the back of my hand. Dr. Wilson passes the box of tissues from the coffee table over to us. I didn't realize how much I was crying. As I'm about to take one I see Rachel grab one first. I look over at her. Her cheeks are blotchy and her nose is pink. She pats the corners of her eyes and wipes her face with the tissue. She cleans up some of her mascara that got smeared before meeting my gaze. I reach out to hold her hand and to my relief, her left hand is resting underneath my right. I squeeze it gently before looking at Dr. Wilson. His face is somber and tired, as if he really felt the emotions we did that night; the way we feel right now.

"Then we called you," I say with a slight chuckle, trying to soften the mood. Dr. Wilson smiles slightly at my comment as he flips to the front of his binder.

"Yes, you were referred to me by your friend, Cooper Richardson," he states. "I remember him and Anne well. Although their situation was different, both of your relationships contain long distance, stressful working conditions, and past trauma. Your reasoning for reaching out to me for help and your goals for therapy are similar," Dr. Wilson adds. Cooper told me all about what he and Anne have been going through for the last couple of years while we were on our mission. He had never mentioned anything to me before then. I'm sure Rachel knows more than I do about it from Anne's point of view.

"Yeah, he said that you saved them," I replied. Dr. Wilson smiles without looking up from his binder.

"I am simply a mediator in these sessions, here to encourage communication and guide you towards rebuilding your connection with each other. The actual work that gets put into repairing your relationship comes from the two of you," his eyes are serious when he says this to us. "I think that we are on the right path based on what I heard from you today. It's clear to me that your communication needs improvement," I nod. I think I can see Rachel nodding out of the corner of my eye as well.

"By the time we meet next week, I have something that I'd like the two of you to try," Dr. Wilson pulls a flier out of his binder and passes it across the table to us.

XTREME SPORTS CENTER

The words are written in big, red letters. There are images of dirt biking, indoor skydiving, and some other activities I've never seen before.

"Umm, you want us to go to a demolition derby?" Rachel asks from my right.

Ahh, that's what the picture is with the cars crashing into each other. Dr. Wilson lets out a loud, jolly laugh.

"No, I want the two of you to go paintballing," my eyes widen and I can feel my mouth open slightly. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Paintballing?" I ask. "Why?"

"I want the two of you to participate in the duos competition on Saturday," Rachel laughs out loud.

"A competition? We can't win that!" she says giggling.

"I don't need the two of you to win," Dr. Wilson replies as he chuckles along with Rachel. "I need the two of you to practice communicating. This event will force you to respond to each other quickly and decisively. You will have to work together. Obviously, if you win, though, that is a sign that your communication was exceptional," Dr. Wilson continues smirking and closes his binder. I look over at Rachel. Her expression is that of confusion and a little excitement.

"I think it would be fun," she says, raising her eyebrows at me. "Remember when we went paintballing for your birthday senior year?" her lips curve into a wide smile. Her teeth are a square shape and perfectly in line. I think back, remembering my party. It really was a lot of fun, but then we were teenagers without any worries in the world.

"Alright," I say. "Let's do it," I grab the flier from the table as I stand up. Leaving Dr. Wilson's office today feels much different than last time. I put my hand on the small of Rachel's back and guide her out the door.