an. Thank you guys so much for your reviews - it's always a pleasure reading them! We're in the home stretch on this one. This is technically the last chapter of Vengeance; the next will be an epilogue.

One advantage of being Navy was their ability to fall asleep in less than ideal positions. Sasha was squished on Tom's right side, the plastic guard rail of the bed digging into her back uncomfortably. He had moved over as far as possible with his limited mobility, but it was still a tight fit. He'd asked her to stay the night, and she'd happily obliged. Another perk of being Tom Chandler – the usual rules just didn't apply. Visiting hours? Not for them. One of the nurses had been kind enough to stop by with an extra blanket, and he'd draped it over her. She still seemed tired, like she wasn't sleeping much, and if he were honest, he was still worried about her. Her arm was taking longer to heal than it should – probably because she didn't eat, or sleep for more than two hours at a time.

He was watching her as she lightly snored next to him; his sleep pattern had been thrown off significantly by the surgery and drugs, and the constant need to sleep had finally released its grip on him. He'd been awake for the past hour, merely enjoying being next to someone he loved again. Right on queue, she fussed slightly. Her arm twitched, and her breathing changed pace, her eyes moving behind closed lids. She was dreaming about whatever it was she dreamed about again. He gave it a few more moments to see if she'd settle – didn't want to wake her if he didn't have to, but the second forceful twitch let him know it wasn't an option.

"Hey," he called gently while he shook her to rouse her. She inhaled sharply, and her eyes snapped open. "You were dreaming again," he said tenderly, as he saw her fight the grogginess to understand her surroundings. She licked her lips and rolled, grimacing as her back protested the position she'd jammed herself in. She ran a hand through her hair, closing her eyes again in frustration. He was watching her intently, his expression troubled.

"Sash," he started.

"Tom," she cut him off. She couldn't have this conversation right now. She was too damn tired and still too shaken up from almost losing him. She couldn't handle it. She felt him sigh. "It's just a dream. Doesn't mean anything – I'll get over it." She tried to assure him, could tell he wasn't buying what she was selling.

He knew better than to push when she wasn't ready to be tested; knew it would do nothing but backfire, so he let it go. Settled instead for leaning over and kissing her forehead, his hand cupping her head as he did it. His way of silently communicating that he was here, and he'd listen when she was ready to talk. She relaxed slightly and repositioned herself – resting her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. Her metronome. The thing that always bought her back. He stroked her hair absently as he brooded up at the ceiling – whatever this was wasn't going away anytime soon, of that he was sure.

She left early to get back to Fisher House in time for the kids' breakfast before morning visitation. He'd fallen back asleep, and she hadn't the heart to wake him, so she left. She was planning on tackling logistics for them today. Tom wanted his cell service set up again, though she wasn't sure how she was going to make that happen for him, given she didn't have any identification of her own to set up a new account. The fraud was so rampant since the Red Flu that most things simply couldn't be done online or via telephone anymore. People's credentials needed to be verified in person.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't know this country anymore. Peng's post-plague system had been an entirely different approach. As his diplomatic liaison to the States, she'd been afforded every luxury imaginable while the rest of China fought over scraps. She had no idea how things worked here – the Navy had fed and clothed her for close to two years since she'd joined the James. Her basic needs provided for, and in return, her only focus had been the mission.

She'd immediately signed up for cure delivery runs after Tom had left – practically lived on that ship for all but two years punctuated by a few days dry dock here and there. Even then, she'd simply bunked on base. Then when the virus had jumped ship, they'd been deployed again. Searched all over Africa for those seeds until they tracked them to the middle east.

"Do they even have carrier stores anymore?" she asked out loud. She was sitting in a chair close to his bed, searching the net for the nearest functioning one while the kids played some kind of game on their consoles. Tom frowned at her slightly.

"Of course," he answered, showing his confusion, "you didn't get a cell again? After Asia?"

She gave him a look, "Who was I going to call?" she asked. He tucked his chin against his chest and looked away, didn't like the shame that came over him. "I never stopped. I didn't request my ID's to access the bank program. I'm not even sure I have an account anymore. They probably declared me dead." She explained nonchalantly – like it were obvious.

He swallowed uncomfortably, reminded once again of everything she'd lost – the fact that she still didn't have the basics, and it had been two years now since the cure was delivered. Embarrassed that he'd been so caught up in his own shit that he'd bolted while the rest of them pushed on. They'd all lost things, all harbored guilt – he needed to remember that his pain wasn't any more special than theirs in that regard.

"You can use my card for whatever you need. I put my wallet and the kid's ID's in a box – Ashely can show you." he offered.

"I wonder what it's like out there," she said.

The country had been on shaky ground anyway after Shaw, barely back to some semblance of order after the pandemic. President Oliver had done an excellent job of rebuilding trust, but just as they'd been finding their feet, the Red Rust had reared its ugly head, and the world faced chaos again. People were hungry and desperate. Hungry and desperate people did terrible things. The government was doing everything it could to supply rations in exchange for continued order and prosperity – but it was a ticking time bomb.

"I'm glad you bought that up; I don't want you to leave without taking someone with you." He warned.

"Way ahead of you," she deflected easily, a wry smile playing at her lips. "The kids will stay here, and I have a couple Marines who volunteered to provide an escort off base." He gave her a small nod that let her know her solution was at least satisfactory to him, though the control freak in him still didn't like the fact that he wouldn't be there. He was bed-ridden for two weeks while the plate settled before he'd be allowed to begin physical therapy.

"Now we just need to figure out how I'm turning your service on with no ID and you confined to this bed." She said, raising her eyebrow at him. He pondered for a moment; he hadn't thought that far, of course, when he'd hinted he wanted it done. "Maybe Oliver can pull some strings?" he suggested.

"I'll give it a try – I think I can fast-track my military ID, but everything else will take a while. If I was listed presumed dead, they'll have to give me a new social. I asked Michener not to update my file when I checked in." she paused as she typed something, "oh and I already spoke with your coordinator, they got you and the kids signed up for ration cards again." She added, distracted by what she was doing.

"We'll figure it out," he assured her. "So you haven't been home?"

She paused and looked up at him. She'd considered it when Mike and she had taken leave to look for him, but she hadn't felt ready. Every time she thought of it – it made it too real. The magnitude of her losses – the life she'd crafted before it had all gone to shit. She looked down dismissively and continued typing.

"No, didn't have time." She lied. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly but didn't push. They had company, and this wasn't the right time to call her out on it.

"I'm sorry," he offered. She shrugged slightly – deflecting his concern.

"It's probably gone by now anyway, looted, flooded – who knows." She added. He frowned again; they had satellites. If she really wanted to know, she was within her right to request a feed. He recognized it for what it was. She was scared to go back, scared to know.

"I seem to remember someone agreeing to take me there," he began his expression and tone light. She tried but couldn't hide the smirk on her lips; the image of him standing on his ship as the sun cast its last glow over them still fresh in her mind. Their stolen moments when she'd fallen in love, possibly harder than she had the first time.

"And I seem to remember you flirting with me," she countered.

"If I recall, it worked."

"Guys – ew," Ashley said, not bothering to look up from her console.

Sasha bit her lips, and Tom continued baiting her handsomely with his eyes – that boyish twinkle directed her way as he grinned and turned his head sideways.

"Stop being cute." She told him as she tried to focus on what she was doing instead. "You're damaging Ashley,"

"Thank you!" Ashely agreed, and he chuckled softly.

She winked at him over the laptop and fired off the email she'd composed to President Oliver's assistant.

"Here it is," Ashely said, coming out of the bedroom into the common area with the box. She put it down on the desk between them.

"Thanks," Sasha answered, wasting no time as she dug into its contents.

It was all there, just as he'd said. Buried in between family photos of the kids, Darien. His parents and siblings at family get-togethers – the one solitary picture of her, of them. Passports, birth certificates, his wallet. Driver's license, credit cards, bank cards. She swallowed. It was all so normal. So domestic, and she felt entirely like an imposter.

Ashley was chewing her lip nervously; it's not that Sasha was bad or had done anything at all. It was that she could see how different her Dad was with her compared to Cali. He treated her like he used to treat Mom – and that scared her.

"Why did you and my Dad break up before?" she asked quietly.

Sasha closed the box after getting what she needed and inhaled slightly, preparing to have this conversation. Things were going as well as they could with Ashley – better than she'd hoped actually. But she wasn't blind, and she could sense the trepidation and uncertainty. She wanted to prevent it from getting out of control and turning into resentment.

"We were young… I was young," she corrected. "I didn't want the same things in life as your Dad did at the time."

"But did you not love him?" she asked quickly. Sasha narrowed her eyes slightly before deciding the truth would likely be best.

"I loved him very much. But sometimes that's why you need to let people go. If you don't want the same future as them, it's selfish to expect them to change if you aren't willing to compromise."

Ashley frowned slightly as she tried to make sense of what that meant. Sasha cleared her throat slightly, deciding to be brave.

"Listen, I uh…" she paused, this was uncomfortable for her, "I'm not trying to replace your Mom, in any way. I need you to know that. I hope that maybe one day, we can be friends. And if you ever need my help, I am more than happy to do what I can for you or your brother – regardless of what's going on with your Dad." She offered sincerely.

Ashley looked at the floor, becoming frustrated by the fact that she could feel herself wanting to cry; she did every time she thought about her Dad moving on from her Mom. About the idea that he might marry someone else again. How he never talked about her and clammed up whenever she came up. It seemed like all he wanted to do was forget. And it seemed like Sasha might really have the ability to make that so.

"I don't want him to forget her," she mumbled, still looking at the floor.

Sasha's heart broke for the girl, and she furrowed her eyebrows bending slightly so she could make eye contact with her.

"Hey," she whispered. "Your Dad will never forget about your Mom. Ever. He tells me every day how proud he is of you, and how much you remind him of her." Ashely peered up at her, biting her lower lip to stop the impending tears from falling.

"Well then why doesn't he talk about her to me, or Sam? He acts like she didn't exist," she asked bitterly. Sasha sighed and straightened. Deciding it was best if they sat down – she guided her to sit on the couch across from her.

"Because it's difficult. He feels like he let you down by not being there and choosing to finish his mission. He thinks if he'd done things differently, she might not have died." She answered, honestly.

"Well, could he?" she asked, the tears finally having won out.

"No sweetie. He couldn't." She answered, firmly shaking her head. Ashely sniffed, the anger and bitterness pouring out. "What do you think would have happened if he'd come home and joined you guys?" Sasha asked softly.

Ashely hiccuped slightly. "He would have kept us safe." She answered stubbornly.

"He would have tried. But then there would be no cure. So, you guys would've had to hide forever, and hope that an accident didn't happen and that no one got sick..." she started elaborating.

"But if we did, we all would have died." Ashely finished for her. She knew this; her Grandpa had told her, Kelly had told her, Debbie, Kara… countless people had told her this, but she still couldn't help thinking what if. Sasha licked her lips and nodded.

"That's right. Your Dad thinks about what if more than he should." Sasha told her. "Because in the end, none of you did anything wrong. What happened to you, and all of us was a terrible thing. And no-one had any control over it – that's why it's so hard."

She let her words settle – sink in. Ashley's crying calmed down, and she got control of herself again.

"I know." She finally muttered, looking over to where Sasha was sitting patiently. She smiled at the girl softly.

"I think you should talk to your Dad, maybe if you guys talked about happier memories with your Mom, it might help?" she suggested quietly.

Ashley nodded.

"Can you maybe not tell my Dad about this?" she asked quietly. Sasha pondered it for a moment; it felt important – something that Tom might want to know, but at the same time, she didn't want to make Ashely feel like she couldn't confide in her.

"It can be our little secret," she finally decided on. "But, I think it would be good if you told him yourself. When you're ready, of course." She encouraged again. Ashely nodded softly at her again and wiped her face.

"Thanks, Sasha."

"Anytime."

The president had come through. A federal order to belay the anti-fraud identification mandates set forth by his administration meant she'd been able to set the Chandler's up with a plan again, and add a line for herself. It was crazy how strange it felt to have something as simple as an iPhone again. She'd signed into the cloud and forgotten that it would all come back – she honestly didn't know if she wanted to look. If she wanted to check her emails, look at her social media feeds, pictures, the last text messages she'd sent, the wallpaper she'd had of their wedding day…

"You okay?" he asked quietly. He'd been watching her for the past three minutes, and she hadn't noticed. She was just staring at the screen doing nothing, a stoic expression on her face. Her eyes snapped up to his, and he hadn't missed the way she jumped slightly. She couldn't do it. She hit cancel on the backup restore. She inhaled a little too sharply.

"Yeah," She deflected, going through the menus to set the phone up as new. He pursed his lips slightly – the kids were gone, it was late. She was holding back again. She'd always been like this – guarded with her thoughts; her emotions. The wall she'd always kept up to protect herself.

"It takes a while, but you get used to it again." He offered quietly. Her eyes softened, letting her defenses down a little; somehow, he always knew. Knew what she wasn't saying.

"You gonna ask me for my number?" she joked, fixing him with a flirtatious gaze.

He smirked.

"You gonna admit you've already memorized mine?"

She bit her lip and let out a soft laugh – opening the messaging app and sending him a text.

"Touché"

He felt his phone vibrate, and he laughed when he read it. Quickly adding her to his contact list as Sasha ICE, not missing that she'd picked a 757 area code.

"Does this mean you're officially my girlfriend?" he typed. She laughed and shook her head.

"Did you just ask me to be your girlfriend in a text message?" her tone was light, enjoying the simple banter and easy flirtation they'd always shared. How much of a dork he could be – and still was. She was struck suddenly by how little he'd changed at his core; he was still the same loveable man with a heart of gold that she'd fallen for before – just more baggage. Baggage they all shared.

"Maybe?" he asked.

She pulled her feet down from the bed and got out of the chair, coming instead to sit next to him. He leaned back, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time, his gaze tender as he rested his hand on her upper thigh.

"Okay," she said quietly.

The lopsided smile grew wider, and she found herself returning it. She bought her hands up to smooth over his eyebrows before they trailed down the sides of his face.

"You're so handsome when you smile," she told him simply. His eyes gleamed, and he leaned up and captured her mouth, pulling him towards him.

"And you're beautiful all the damn time." He told her quietly against her lips.