A/N: My apologies for the delay in updating; real life got away from me. I'm not sure how long the next chapter will take.
004. Our last shortcut through woods nearly ended in disaster.
Captain Sarah Sanati waited impatiently for the launch doors to cycle open, years of training the only thing keeping her from fidgeting in front of the two junior officers who'd been tapped to go with her to seaQuest to retrieve the rescued UEO personnel. They'd received a partial list of names of those recovered, but Wolenczak, who'd sent that list, hadn't updated them with a complete list before the Dauntless had arrived.
The list she had, the one she'd dedicated to memory within minutes of receiving it, gave thirty-five names. That meant that there were still twenty-two possibilities for a missing friend or acquaintance to be among those rescued. Twenty-two chances to regain someone she'd believed was lost, and Sanati had lost plenty of people since the beginning of this war. Some of those really were gone forever, confirmed casualties, but that left the multitudes who were presumed dead or captured, who'd disappeared into the ether between one mission and the next.
The doors opened and she straightened, every inch the consummate officer. That lasted about five seconds, right up until she exited the launch, looked around the docking bay, and spotted Sophie Sutton standing behind the man who her intel told her was Nathan Bridger. All of the breath was knocked out of her as swiftly as though she'd been punched, and she barely remembered to salute Bridger.
"Captain Sarah Sanati, Section Seven," she identified herself. "This is Lieutenant Harrison and Lieutenant Cardenas. Captain Glenn, the commanding officer of the Dauntless, sends his regards. Permission to come aboard, sir?"
"Permission granted, Captain," Bridger replied. "I'd introduce you to Commander Sutton, but judging from your expression I'm guessing you've already met."
"You're not wrong, Captain," Sanati replied, eschewing the return of Sophie's traditional salute in favor of pulling her into a quick hug, not caring whether it was against SecSev regs. She'd wanted to find a lost friend among the people rescued from the prison, but to find this friend… "Jesus, Sass, I'm so glad to see you."
"Likewise, Sass," Sophie murmured, and Sanati grinned. They'd taken a psi-training course together years ago at Chatton and been assigned as roommates by virtue of their surnames' alphabetical proximity. It hadn't taken them long to realize they had the same initials, S-A-S, and they'd taken to calling one another by them. They'd become fast friends and had actually stayed close after finishing the course even though they were assigned to different departments. Hearing about Sophie's death several months ago had shaken her. She'd always believed that Sophie Sutton was invincible.
"Let me guess. Rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated?"
"Intentionally," Sophie confirmed, and Sanati nodded as though she'd been expecting that response. On some level, she supposed she had been. If there was a breakout from the most secure prison in Macronesian territory, it was vastly unlikely that Sophie Sutton would be in the area simply by coincidence, especially since Sanati already knew that Wolenczak had been involved in orchestrating the prison break. This was yet another one of Sophie's elaborate missions. She'd probably needed people to believe she was dead in order to work some angle or slip past some security checkpoint.
"This is for you," Sophie added, handing Sanati a minidisc. "It's the updated list of refugees. Sorry it wasn't transmitted to you sooner; we had a little excitement here."
"Oh?"
"We uncovered a traitor aboard the boat, but she was killed while trying to escape from the brig."
Sanati shook her head. "I'd hate be around when you have a really exciting day."
Sophie smiled, a knowing expression, and tilted her head toward the doors to the docking bay.
"Captain Bridger, I'd like to take Captain Sanati and her people down to Cargo Bay Three now. Would you care to join us?"
"Actually, I was hoping to speak with Commander Wolenczak. I'm sure you can take care of whatever Captain Sanati might need."
Sophie glanced over at Sanati.
"Captain, would you and your people mind giving us a moment?"
"Of course," Sanati replied, gesturing for the two lieutenants to join her by the far wall to give Sophie and the captain at least a semblance of privacy. They were far enough away that they couldn't hear the quiet conversation between Sophie and Bridger.
"Commander Wolenczak has been temporarily relieved of duty pending the results of Lieutenant Brody's investigation into the shooting, Captain."
Of course, the inaudibility of their conversation meant very little to Sanati. Being a telepath who was also trained in reading lips came in handy quite often in the spy world.
"I understand that, Commander. I wasn't planning on interrogating him. I'd just like to see how he's doing."
Sophie's momentary hesitation wouldn't have been visible to anyone who didn't know her well. Bridger either didn't see it or didn't deem it worthy of remarking on.
"I'm sure he'd appreciate your concern," she replied, yielding gracefully. "By your leave, sir."
"Go ahead, Commander," Bridger told her. "Let me know when the refugees are ready to go. I'd like to be here to see them off."
"Of course, Captain."
Sophie rejoined Sanati and her lieutenants, leaving Bridger in the docking bay as they headed over to Cargo Bay Three.
"Everything all right, Sass?" Sanati asked, and received a dry look from Sophie.
"You'd know as well as I would."
Sanati smiled, her lips curling into a Cheshire cat grin.
"Knows all, sees all, and tells nothing to nobody," she replied cheerfully. "Where is this cargo bay? You'd think it would be near the docking bays."
Sophie, who'd memorized the blueprints of the boat at the first opportunity, shrugged. There were several things about the setup of the boat that didn't make much sense to her. It was likely that whoever had designed the boat hadn't been quite as tactically oriented as she was.
"You'd think, wouldn't you? But it's over the river and through the woods -"
"Please, let's skip the woods. Our last shortcut through woods nearly ended in disaster."
They both snickered at the memory, sharing a smile as Sophie led the little group down to where the refugees awaited them.
Two hours later, the last of the rescued UEO personnel were safely aboard the Dauntless and headed for New Cape Quest. Sophie had made Wolenczak's excuses to Zeta Team, none of whom seemed surprised by his absence at their send-off. News of Callahan's death had spread like wildfire, including the fact that their intel coordinator had been the one to kill her. If they were surprised it had been Wolenczak instead of Sutton, they were wise enough not to show it.
Her parting conversation with Sanati had been a nice interlude, even if Sanati had seemed a little too happy to find that jerk Alex Griffin among the refugees. Probably she was just relieved to have one more of her own people back; Sophie could understand that feeling, even though Griffin was an arrogant prig. The last time Sophie had seen Sanati had been over a year ago, back when Sanati had been in the hospital after a bombing of one of Section Seven's outposts. She'd recovered fully from her injuries, and she was gratifyingly happy to see that Sophie was also alive and well. They made plans to get together the next time it was feasible. Neither of them had many friends - such was the nature of their work - and the opportunity to spend time with another person who really understood their day to day life was rare. Sophie wasn't sure when that opportunity would arise, but she was looking forward to it regardless.
She went through the stringent process of letting herself into her partner's lab, barely noticing the security measures that most people aboard would no doubt find excessive. Security measures like these saved lives, something Wolenczak had apparently learned during his tenure at ISD. She was certain he'd been the one to install all of the scanners and passcode locks onto the doors; the seaQuest hadn't initially been designed with that sort of security in mind.
Wolenczak himself was sitting at his workstation, laptop open in front of him.
"Lucas?"
"Hey." He didn't look up from his computer screen as Sophie entered the room. She watched him as she tugged the pins out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders with a little sigh of relief. She'd been a tad overzealous in putting it up that morning, and the release of the tension at the back of her skull eliminated a headache she hadn't even realized she'd had until it was gone.
"The Dauntless is gone. Did you know that Sarah Sanati is their Section Seven attaché?"
"I knew."
"You didn't tell me."
"I forgot."
She paused, then chose another avenue of discussion.
"Did you end up having a talk with Bridger?"
"No."
That gave her pause; Bridger had seemed firm in his resolve to chat with Lucas.
"Did he come looking for you?"
"Yes."
She waited for an explanation as to how he'd dodged the captain, but none was forthcoming. Sophie bit her lip, uncertain why she was encountering so much resistance. It was possible that he was doing something esoterically complicated on the computer; when he was short with her this way, it was usually because she was interrupting him. He didn't have the same intensity he exhibited when he was working on one of his mad scientist projects, however. To the contrary, he seemed - unfocused. Scattered. Lost.
Hell.
She should have seen this coming. Actually, she had seen it coming, or something like it, but she'd foolishly hoped that his anger over what Callahan had done to them and to their team would keep him from feeling the full impact of becoming her executioner. At least he'd been smart enough not to try and meet with Bridger while he was feeling this way. The captain was entirely too canny for Sophie's taste and he was still an unknown quantity. If he confirmed for himself that Callahan's escape attempt had been staged, there was no telling what he might do with the information.
"Thinking about Callahan?"
Her partner's head jerked up, finally giving her his full attention, and she swallowed another curse at the hollow look in his eyes. It was familiar, although she'd never seen it on him before. That was the same way Hallifeld had looked when she'd seen her in the prison, and it was the same expression Sophie had seen in the mirror a time or two in the past. She'd looked just like that the night she'd killed Pete Morgan.
"Should I be?"
Sophie ignored both the question and the snide tone he used to ask it, pinning him with her level gaze.
He sighed. "She had a guaranteed death sentence. Does it really matter that I was the one who pulled the trigger?"
"Apparently, it does." Sophie propped her chin up on her fist, still sprawled across the bed. Her posture was an intentional contrast to his, a subconscious message to get him to relax, but it wasn't working. "Would you be over there sulking if I'd been the one who shot her?"
He stiffened - he hated it when she accused him of sulking or pouting - but he didn't argue.
"I wouldn't be over there sulking if I'd shot her," Sophie pointed out, continuing to needle him in the hopes that he'd finally say something meaningful instead of just sniping at her. "I'd be celebrating."
"I'm not you!" he snapped, his sarcasm slipping and showing her a glimpse of the anguish beneath it. She swallowed a sigh, relieved that he was starting to respond. Being intentionally cruel or callous toward him, even with the best intentions in the world, wasn't as easy as it should have been.
Part of being in love, she thought, torn between sardonic amusement and self-recrimination. She'd said all along that love was a complication she couldn't afford, that it would make their jobs ten times more difficult, and as much as she liked to be right there were times when she'd prefer to be proven wrong.
"I've noticed," she replied, keeping to the thread of the conversation. "So what is this? Are you feeling guilty for doing your job?"
"At least I feel something!"
"I wish I didn't," she replied honestly. "It would make my job easier."
"Oh, right. Do you think I'm actually going to believe that you feel guilty about what happened to Callahan?"
"Of course not. I feel guilty about what happened to you."
That brought him to a standstill, and he looked at her like a drowning man sighting a life preserver.
"What…what do you mean?"
"It doesn't take a genius to see that you're hurting, Lucas. I don't know whether it was Callahan's betrayal or you being the one to take care of it that caused it, but I'm sorry for it either way."
He was silent for a long moment.
"Has it occurred to you that I'm not a typical operative?" he asked finally. "Even for the intel side?"
"Daily," she replied, managing with a herculean effort to keep from rolling her eyes. Wolenczak was so far from the norm for their department that he might as well have been another species. He eschewed violence, disliked guns, was actually afraid of explosives, and had a downright bizarre preoccupation with keeping to the path of least resistance, even when it meant a significant loss of efficiency. Their division as a whole was diametrically opposed to most of what he believed in.
"It wasn't that hard to reconcile myself to the way ISD works," he said slowly. "Not when I joined. They recruited me to do a job, so I did the job. If there were conflicts, you dealt with them for me."
She'd wondered how much of that he'd noticed over the years, her typically subtle but occasionally overt influence on his day to day life in ISD. She'd shielded him from most of the ugly things they dealt with. She performed prisoner interrogations and the cultivation of enemy contacts, responsibilities which typically fell under the IC's purview, both because she was good at it and because, conversely, Lucas just wasn't up to the job. His brain simply wasn't wired to handle wanton violence or willful betrayal.
"And then things changed?"
"Well, you were in a coma," he pointed out, a little dark humor creeping back into his tone. "It would've been hard for you to protect me from the real world then. And then Zeta Team was gone, and then you were gone, and I was alone."
Sophie swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I never planned for that to happen -"
"I'm not a child!" he exploded, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. She held her tongue, knowing that if she pointed out the nervous gesture now, it would only reinforce the idea that she thought of him as a kid. "I've been in this division for almost five years! I should be able to do my job without you running interference for me - and I could, at first. I cleared Jack's name on my own. I kept my department from being overwhelmed while he got back into the swing of things. I did as good a job as any other senior intel officer would have."
"So what changed?"
He collapsed back into his chair, exhaustion starting to set in. "They found the seaQuest and everything changed. Everyone wanted something from me, wanted me to be someone I wasn't. I had no idea who I was anymore and I didn't have anyone around to remind me. I did my best to stay in character as the cold-hearted spy. Some days it was impossible, and some days I was terrified by how easy it was. And all that time, Callahan was sitting right under my nose, and I never once realized who she really was or what she'd done."
"That's not your fault, Lucas."
"No? You were here less than a day and you knew she was a traitor. I worked with her for months -"
"- and you never liked her." Sophie was positive about that, even though he hadn't specifically told her. She knew him well enough to know how he would have responded to Callahan's attitude. "You never trusted her."
"I didn't even consider that she might be a traitor."
"Because that's not who you are, Lucas," Sophie told him, starting to run out of patience with the conversation. "That's not something that would ever occur to you. It's outside your realm of experience."
"Anyone else would have seen her for what she was. If it had been you here instead of me…"
The subtext was disturbingly clear. He was angry at Callahan's betrayal, but he was angrier with himself for not seeing it like a 'good operative' would have. Like Sophie would have.
"Is that why you took responsibility for her in the end?" Sophie watched him carefully for a sign that she'd figured it out. "Is that why you volunteered? Because you felt like you could redeem yourself if you were the one to pull the trigger?"
"That's what anyone else would have done."
"No, Lucas," she corrected him gently. "It's what I would have done. Is that what this is really about? That you weren't conforming to some idealized concept you have of what an operative should do because it's what I would have done?"
His silence was all the answer she needed.
"Lucas, when was the last time you saw me hack into an enemy database?"
He frowned at the abrupt change in subject.
"Never, that I can remember," he replied finally, and she nodded.
"That's because I'm terrible with technology. Everybody has their strengths and weaknesses. I'm a brilliant tactician, a decent sniper, and a hand-to-hand combat instructor. I am not a computer programmer, a hacker, or a people person. I defer all of that to you."
"It's not the same thing -"
"It's exactly the same thing!" Sophie threw her hands up in exasperation. "For a genius, Wolenczak, you can be a real idiot sometimes!
He started to snap at her, but she stilled abruptly, pressing a finger to her lips.
"Hear that?"
"What is it?" he whispered, glancing around the room. He hadn't heard anything suspicious, but then he'd been pretty involved in the argument. He wouldn't be surprised if half the bridge crew had managed to sneak into the room while he and Sophie had been busy yelling at each other.
"It's the sound of me putting my foot in my mouth," she whispered back, so straight-faced that it took him several seconds to catch on.
"Sophie -"
"Lucas, please." She sat back down on the bed, patting the space next to her. "Come sit with me. No more arguing, I swear."
He obeyed warily. She scooted a little closer to him and snaked her arm around his waist, his arm coming automatically around her shoulders as she leaned into him.
"If you weren't exactly what this team needed, what I needed, I would've booted you as our intel coordinator years ago, my promise to you notwithstanding."
"I know."
"You do know, but you only know it up here." Her free hand tapped lightly at his temple, then slid down to rest over his heart. "You never realize how important you are in here."
The knot of fury in his chest was loosening, his throat tightening with grief. It was an even trade, one unpleasant emotion for another. He pulled her closer to him, her head tucked beneath his chin, so she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.
"This hardcore spy stuff isn't who I am."
"I know."
He smiled wanly. "You know it up here," he said, his fingers tugging at her hair. She let out a little laugh, her breath tickling his skin.
"I know, Lucas. You're the only intel coordinator who doesn't handle his team's interrogations and enemy assets for a reason. You're too valuable - to this team and to me - to risk losing you to a crisis of conscience."
"I killed Callahan."
Callahan killed herself, she wanted to insist, but it was pointless. He was beyond caring that Callahan had signed her own death warrant. All he cared about now was that he'd been the one to pull the trigger.
"If you hadn't killed her, I would have."
Lucas nodded, his chin brushing against the top of her head. He'd never doubted that for a second. "So I guess I can't hate myself for doing something I wouldn't hate you for doing?"
"I guess not."
They sat in silence for a moment, and something he'd wondered about after the prison break - had it only been a few days ago? It felt like years had passed since then - came back to him.
"Sophie?"
"Hmm?"
"Wallace mentioned that the Macs on the station were all dead before the prisoners were released from their cells."
Forester in her sights, sleeping peacefully, as her finger hesitated on the trigger.
"Before you ask the question, lover, make sure you want to know the answer."
Another long moment of silence.
"Are you okay with it? With what you had to do?"
She blinked at the question, so far from what she'd expected him to ask.
"I have my team back," she said slowly. "We're all back where we belong. For that, I sacrificed each and every one of those people. I traded thirty-two of their lives for fifty-seven of ours."
"The mathematics of war."
"I hate it, Lucas." She sounded weary, leaning a little further into him, and his arm tightened around her in response. "I killed most of the off-duty personnel in their sleep. The guards were unconscious when I shot them. It wasn't even a mockery of a fair fight. It was a slaughter."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry won't end the war, Lucas," Sophie sighed. "Sorry won't get rid of Bourne and Stassi. Sorry won't bring us any closer to being an old married couple living on a farm with our six kids."
"I've been meaning to bring that up with you," he said, perking up a little. "Does it have to be a farm? I did agree to the farm, I know, but I was thinking maybe we could move to Maine instead and I could try my hand at lobster fishing."
"So I'll be a lobsterman's wife." Her lips curled into a reluctant smile. "Why not? Find us a private little island of our own, build me a tactically defensible house, and you've got a deal."
He smiled against her hair. "You will be all right, won't you?"
"I've got Zeta Team." She took his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers. "I've got you. I'll manage."
"No," he replied, finally thinking not of Callahan's death but of a little house on a bluff, of half a dozen tow-headed children playing happily in the surf. Of Sophie, a genuine smile on her face, all of her fatigue and anguish chased away by the sunshine of a clear summer morning. It was just a dream now, but if they could keep going, keep from losing their way through all of the obstacles that the life they'd chosen put in front of them, maybe someday they'd get the chance to make a different choice. "We'll manage. Together."