Sasha sipped at her drink, eyes keenly watching the kids as they ran about the dock, jumping energetically in and out of the water. A small smile tugged at her lips when she watched Sam push his sister unceremoniously headfirst into the river, and the hearty laugh he gave after accomplishing it. The innocence brought her peace and a sense of calm. Reminded her why it was that she fought in the first place – not to give up on everyone, even though it was hard to reconcile sometimes. Her legs were outstretched on a blanket she'd laid out on the grass. After spending days hiding inside, she was enjoying the simple pleasure of the sun's rays, finding that the humidity no longer bothered her when compared to the jungle.
Tom approached in her peripheral, mindful not to startle her from behind – his own drink in hand and settled next to her on the blanket.
"Okay?"
Sasha nodded subtly, "Just thinking," pursed her lips slightly, getting used to the idea of opening up before she continued. "You're right – I never stopped to process. Just kept throwing myself from one problem to the next. I think a lot of us did."
"I figured that out the hard way, after I left." He offered quietly, absently picking at some blades of grass – his own admission pushing him somewhat outside of his comfort zone.
"Maybe we should find someone – we used to have checks and balances for this kind of stuff. Probably needs to start again if we're serious about rebuilding." Sasha turned her head to the side to catch his expression, though they were both wearing sunglasses, which made him harder to read.
"Oliver already gave me approval to start recruiting for all branches – I put a couple of feelers out while you were gone, found someone that specializes in veterans and PTSD."
Her eyebrow quirked slightly, clearly; he'd been thinking about this a lot longer than she really wanted to admit. Gave a head nod in acknowledgment before turning back to watch the kids again. Tom could tell she was giving something consideration, was about to ask before she spoke up.
"I have to talk to Danny – we agreed not to tell anyone." She turned to look at him again, hesitation present in her body language, "Are you going to say anything?"
His head recoiled slightly, "Of course not. I thought that was obvious?"
Sasha chewed on her lip slightly, "It is a war crime, Tom." The implication hanging behind the words.
"You told me, Sasha – not the CNO. Believe it or not, I am capable of making that distinction," he replied a little more flatly than intended, though he softened quickly, "I've got your back. And Green's." Sasha reached out to take his hand, squeezing it in response.
"Thank you."
He bought her hand up and kissed the back of it, only then noticing that she was wearing five different shades of nail polish on her usually bare nails. The action of him inspecting her hand caused her to look over, and she laughed softly at the confusion on his face.
"Your daughter and I went through my polish collection this morning – and then my jewelry, and my clothes – just in case there's anything I don't want, of course," she elaborated with a fond smile, to which he made an "Ah" sound and threw his head back slightly in knowing.
She felt a pang of melancholy then, but not for herself – for the kids, for Ashely. For all of the ordinary things they'd missed and would miss growing up. "It's not fair," she muttered absently
"No, it's not." A quiet agreement, before he rose his glass back to his lips.
"You know I never did speak to her again – my Mother," she said it so casually that Tom almost choked on his drink. Her childhood, or rather her mother, was a topic they simply did not discuss. Nor touch upon, nor hint at. Ever. He'd learned that the hard way a long, long time ago. Sasha glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, a move hidden by her oversized sunglasses – not missing how he faltered before he recovered quickly. Turning to make sure he was giving her his undivided attention. She loved that about him.
"She reached out, about six years ago now – but I ignored it. And now she's probably dead, and all I can think is that I'm not that sad about it." She mused, scoffing slightly at the end and shaking her head. "What does that say about me?" she asked quietly, a rhetorical question that he wished he could answer.
"I don't –" he started, but she cut him off with a wry smile and a squeeze of the hand he was still holding.
"Relax – I know you don't have an answer for that. We're just talking, right? That's what we do now. I talk, you listen. You talk, I listen – and we hope the shrink can stop us from going insane." Her tone was light, familiar. Sounded like her old self, and he felt some of the worry he'd been harboring loosen its grip.
"That's the general plan," he confirmed, deciding to push the envelope a bit since she seemed to be in a reflective and receptive mood. "Did you give what I said any more thought?"
"I did –" she paused for a moment, "I don't disagree that I need to take a break from fieldwork – but I can't go on leave and do nothing either."
Despite his best efforts, he was sure the conflict had rolled right across his face, but he bit his tongue. Not wanting to push her away by forcing the issue or trying to exert control over the situation, a tactic he was sure wouldn't go well. Sasha turned her head to the side slightly, a knowing smile gracing her features because he was trying so hard – to be different, to do things differently from how he'd always done them. She didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate it.
"I promise, I will take a step back if I need to. But right now, I want something to focus on outside of being in my head twenty-four seven. I'll go to the counselor, and I won't go on missions until I'm cleared." She told him gently. He nodded his head slightly and stroked the back of her hand absently before accepting it.
"Okay," he agreed.
She smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss against his lips, making a noise of surprise when he used it as an invitation to grab her – pulling her down, and rolling them until her back was on the blanket, and he was perched above her. He kissed her deeply, one hand on her jaw, and the other cradled behind her head while her hands curled themselves around his biceps. Their kiss was interrupted not long after by giggling children.
"Ewww!" Sam declared, purposefully splashing some water from his wet body onto them.
"Hey! Cut that out," Tom said, reluctantly pulling away though his tone and the smile on his face let them know he wasn't really mad.
"You guys need to get a room," Ashely grumbled – though she was secretly just happy that her Dad wasn't beside himself with worry, and Sasha seemed to be doing better these past two days.
"Yeah?" he asked, springing up suddenly, which caused her to shriek and run away, already knowing that he was about to chase her and dunk her back in the water. Sasha sat up, smiling as she watched Tom easily catch up with her, only to flinch when Sam flicked more water in her face with a mischievous grin.
"Oh – you wanna be dunked too?" she chuckled, a playful warning in her voice as he took off running; she happily humored him, chasing him down towards the others. Tom pushed Sam off easily once he was close enough, ignoring his Son's yells to stay away. Sasha stood beside him, laughing as both kids splashed each other gleefully, momentarily distracted until she felt Tom pull the sunglasses from her face.
"No – don't you –" but she was unable to finish her sentence, squealing as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her with him into the river fully clothed. He was still holding her as they submerged and subsequently re-emerged – made sure not to keep them under for too long, but she still gasped when their heads broke the surface. Coughing over the small amount of water she'd inhaled by not closing her mouth fast enough.
He was laughing at her, a real laugh – one she felt like she didn't hear nearly often enough, and she wiped her face – pushed some of the hair out of her eyes so she could look at him. The smile was infectious, and she found those all too familiar butterflies erupt in her stomach as she watched him. Ran her fingers through his short hair, expression soft. He leaned forward and captured her lips again in an affectionate but more chaste kiss, much to the disgust of his kids, who splashed at them, and she laughed softly.
"Maybe we should stop – they might change their minds and decide they hate me," she mumbled, not quite pulling away entirely from his mouth.
"No, they're gonna have to get used to it," kissing her again.
Sasha broke away later that night while Tom cooked dinner – headed to her office sitting in the plush Herman Miller chair and absently noting that she wanted to take it with her when they left. She'd forgotten what a difference a good chair could make. Her gut was churning as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and fired off a quick text to Danny.
"Can you talk?"
A few moments later, she saw his caller ID pop-up on the screen.
"Hey," she greeted.
"What's up, Cooper? Everything good?" he sounded tired, and immediately the guilt started to swirl in ger gut, making her hands shake slightly. She inhaled, trying to find the right words – trying to figure out how to start. She'd been practicing this conversation in her mind for the better part of the afternoon, yet everything she'd planned flew out of the window now she was on the spot.
"I told Tom," blunt and straight to the point. Probably the best course of action, and she waited with bated breath for his reaction. Danny frowned, casting a glance through the kitchen into the main living space where Frankie, Kara, and her Mother sat – he slipped out of the back door, the noise causing Kara to look up just in time to see him leave. Her brow furrowed because it was unlike him to take calls this late or this privately.
"I thought we said we weren't going to tell anyone," the disappointment in his tone evident.
"I know, and I'm sorry. I tried, but I couldn't do it –"
"So you told the Admiral?! You could have called, I would have–"
"Danny," there was an edge to her tone, emotional – unlike anything he'd ever heard from her, and it gave him pause, "I couldn't get out of bed for three days. I couldn't talk, I couldn't stop crying. He had to force me to eat, he–" she broke off, blinking the moisture away from her eyes and staring up at the soffited ceiling to stop herself from going over the edge again.
Danny's frown grew deeper, the anger replacing itself with growing concern and an uncomfortable feeling that he couldn't quite place. Foreboding, like maybe this was the reason he'd barely been able to touch his son since he'd returned. That maybe he was headed down this path too. He heard her sniff and take a few audible breaths before she continued.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't take it – I couldn't even look at him. I thought what we did was justice. I thought if they got what they deserved it might be easier. And all I keep thinking is that I'm no better than them–"
He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that were burning in his eyes and cut her off, voice gruff with emotion, "I know," and it was enough for her guilt-ridden ones to fall down her cheeks. She wiped at them quickly with trembling hands.
Her voice wavered horribly, "I'm so sorry. I never should have–"
"We're good, Cooper. If you hadn't said it – I was already gonna do it. This isn't just on you, alright? We both made a choice." He cut her off, kicking some dirt on the ground as he listened to her cry softly on the other end of the line. After giving her a few moments to compose herself, he continued.
"Is he uh – Is he going to–"
"No." Her turn to cut him off, her voice was stronger – more resolute. And the relief he felt was palatable. Morbidly he noted that it was probably a good thing he'd chosen to commit a war crime with the only person in the Navy the Admiral would ever omit this for. Hell, probably the only person left on the planet outside of Chandler's kids. He hadn't even given Dr. Scott a break, and she'd literally saved the human race.
"You might have even done us a favor," his tone glib, and she frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Kara's been asking Azima," he elaborated, "Admiral text me about a week ago, asked if I had something to tell him about Panama."
Sasha did the math quickly in her head, closing her eyes when she recalled the night – heart clenching at the memory of how miserable he'd been when she finally left the shower. How heartbroken he'd looked, and how she'd done nothing but push him away – hurt him enough that he hadn't been able to sleep for the rest of the night. Something she knew because she'd lain there too, pretending right next to him.
"You should tell her," she breathed.
"Can't – she wouldn't understand. Admiral gets it. He's been out there – he's seen what it's like." He justified, as much to himself as to her. Sasha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Don't bottle it up, Danny. Not like I did. Tom found a psychologist that specializes in this. He's gonna bring him in and restart the department. I'm going to see them – I think you should consider it too." She heard him click his teeth on the other end. Imagined the way he liked to avoid eye contact if it pertained to anything he deemed too emotional or weak for him. Heard him clear his throat.
"I'll uh, I'll think about it." He finally decided upon, and she nodded softly though he couldn't see her.
"Good – I'm here in the meantime. If you need to talk – I'll let you go. I'm sure Kara's probably wondering where you are."
"G'night, Cooper"
"Night"
Sasha blew out a breath that puffed out her cheeks and put the phone down—scrubbing hands over her face, taking a few moments to compose herself before she went back to join them for dinner.
"Do you want a wedding?"
Sasha rolled, propping herself up so she could see him better as they lay together in the sheets.
"I think a very small one would be nice, something discreet." She answered honestly as he trailed his knuckles up the smooth skin of her arm, thumb caressing her collarbone before repeating the path again, bed sheet pooled at her naked waist.
Discreet.
"What about rings?" he asked, the corners of her eyes crinkled in a soft smile.
"Yes – a band. I don't need or want a diamond."
"But no last name," his tone was soft, though she couldn't help but hear the slight disappointment behind it. Her head turned to the side, causing her long wavy hair to swish over it and he absently bought his hands down to play with it, twirling the ends between his thumb and his forefinger.
"Not yet. Not while I still need some level of anonymity. And we still need to be careful in public," she confirmed softly, watching as he pursed his lips slightly.
"So, it's secret then,"
"Not secret – just – "
"Discreet." He finished for her.
"Discreet," she agreed with a nod of her head.
"When?"
Her lips faltered slightly, the soft smile morphing into a slightly more wistful expression, and he narrowed his eyes in question, not missing the change.
"October twenty-third," and suddenly, it made sense. Sasha saw the recognition in his eyes, the impact of the simple words as it dawned on him that she'd never forgotten the date. The day he'd first tried to propose, seventeen years prior. He didn't say anything as he looked at her through the darkness, the moonlight peeking through the curtains, the only source of illumination to cast a glow upon her features, catching her eyes as it always did and highlighting them beautifully.
"Figured it might be nice to replace it with a better memory," she offered, her left eyebrow quirking ever so slightly and a shy smile gracing her lips as she waited for him to indicate whether he liked the idea or not. His heart swelled, and he moved forward, capturing her mouth in a loving kiss, pushing her back onto the mattress, and she welcomed him readily. Hands skimming his bare torso easily as he settled himself on top of her, and they made love for the second time that night.