an. Thanks once again for the reviews. I am in the middle of moving houses, so updates may be a little more sporadic over the next couple of weeks as I get everything settled. That being said, this chapter is shorter than usual for this story, but it was the natural ending point before we move into the final phase of this installment. As I said, this fic lays the groundwork for the AU season 5, so you can expect a few time jumps in the final chapters that set the stage.

Wednesday, October 12th, 2016 – St. Louis, Missouri

Danny stormed out of the house, running a ragged hand through his unruly hair. Kicked angrily at the curb, the chill of the air biting his lungs in a strangely satisfying way. It gave him something to focus on other than the gaping chasm of failure, guilt, and pain he'd been slowly drowning in since Frankie Benz had shot his brains out point-blank on that cruise ship.

"Danny!?" Kara's frantic voice called him from the porch. He looked up at the black sky, the streets devoid of all light, save for the soft glow emitting from their house. One of those small daily reminders that though he was "home," things would never be like before, no matter how much they all pretended.

"Go back inside, Kara," he bit out, harsher than intended – it made him cringe. Heard her scoff, and her angry footsteps muffled by the boots she'd thrown on stomping down the wooden stairs of their porch. Absently noted that he really did need to look at that third step – the way it cracked every time there was weight on it sounded like rot.

"No, you don't get to do this – we're married, Danny – for better or for worse," she spoke passionately, grabbing his arm to force him to turn around and look at her. The action made him see red; he wrenched his arm out of her grasp and stepped away.

"Stop! I can't be what you and Frankie need me to be right now," he explained, shaking his head as he walked backward away from her. Trying to ignore the hammering pain her tearful expression elicited.

"Why won't you just tell me what happened?!"

Danny dropped his head, drawing his lips together because he'd asked himself the same question a thousand times, and every time he failed to find the answer. It was stuck inside of him – like a broken record skipping on the same three-beat section over, and over, and over again.

"Go back inside. It's cold," he tried, watching the way she shivered and drew her arms across her small figure. She was only wearing flimsy nightclothes. Kara scoffed again, though not in anger – in frustrated helplessness, they'd been playing this game for two months now. In some ways, anytime he lost someone, anytime he came back from a mission that had gone sideways. Anytime the failure was too great and yet she could never get through to him. Never get him to see that he needed to deal. That she was capable of being there to help him through it.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," Kara brokenly whispered, a few tears finally making themselves known. "You barely look at Frankie," her voice pitched horribly as she struggled to say the words. "I don't know how to get through to you. I love you. I don't understand why you can't just talk to someone."

Danny sucked on his teeth somewhat, buried his hands in his pockets to control himself. The tears swimming in his eyes blurred the damp pavement that he stood on. The weight of her words surrounding him.

"I don't know, Kara – I don't know." It was quiet, broken. It was the truth.

Pain blossomed in her heart, and she sucked on her cheeks. Nodding silently as she worked up the resolve to give him the ultimatum that he needed to hear. She loved him more than anyone in the world except for her son, and she couldn't stand watching Frankie suffer the rejection any longer.

"Well, you need to figure it out. Because our son deserves to have a Father who can look at him." She said resolutely. Drawing her wobbling lips together as the tears slipped unchecked down her cheeks.

Tom frowned when he heard the knock on their door. It was late, almost midnight. The kids were in bed, and so were he and Sasha, though they were still awake, talking. They exchanged a look, and Tom pulled his sidearm from the bedside table and headed downstairs. He relaxed and switched the safety back on when he'd peered through the curtains and spotted Green standing on the porch.

On his part, Danny was deeply regretting being there. Questioning how he'd fallen so far as to be standing on his CNO's steps, in a t-shirt and jeans in 50-degree weather because he had nowhere else to go. Burk and Miller were on the James, so they were out of the question; hell, Kara would have been too had she not requested leave. He couldn't stand being there anymore, his house, suffocating under the weight of his failures. Failures as a husband, as a man, as a leader, as a father…

"Green – everything alright?" Tom asked as he opened the door, stepping aside in a silent invitation for him to enter. Danny only hesitated for a moment before crossing the threshold. Tom closed the door quietly, turning the lock again with a click that seemed magnified to Danny's ears. Acutely aware of the fact that he hadn't yet answered the Admiral because he couldn't formulate the response.

"I uh, I'm sorry, Sir – " he started awkwardly, and the proverbial heaviness settled itself upon Tom's shoulders because he could see how much Danny was struggling and knew that he wasn't there to see him.

"You're good – need me to get Sasha?" he asked, keeping his tone purposefully casual and light. Danny's only response was to nod slightly as he continued avoiding eye contact.

"Make yourself comfortable," Tom instructed, gesturing through the foyer to the living room. When he reached the bedroom, Sasha was already up, pulling on a robe. She'd heard him let someone in, her sneaking suspicion confirmed by the solemn expression he wasn't quite managing to hide. Her heart fell, guilt flaring all over again, churning in her gut. The apprehension was clear in Tom's tone as he spoke.

"It's Green – he doesn't look good," he warned, caught between the desire to shelter Sasha from her own guilt, and knowing they couldn't let Danny go down this path. Tom was worried. She had been doing well for the past month, occasionally triggered, but on the right track, and he feared that this could derail her. If he were honest, he struggled with it almost daily, with his inherent need to control and protect. Had to remind himself that this was one thing he couldn't fix for her. Sasha inclined her head slightly and moved toward the door.

Danny had his head in his hands as he sat on their couch, didn't bother to move, even when he felt her sit down beside him. The silence stretched for a moment before he heard her speak.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea? I think we might even have beer if you're interested." An attempt to break the ice, get him talking or doing anything other than looking so broken and defeated.

"Does it help?" he asked quietly, which elicited a slight frown of confusion from her.

"What?"

"The shrink," he elaborated, the words tasting sour in his mouth as he scrubbed hands down his cheeks before resting his chin on his knuckles. He stared at the wall. The tightness in her chest eased, the air coming more easily.

"It does – and it's a hell of a lot easier than what you're going through now."

He shook his head bitterly, let out a scoff, voice strangled as he replied. "I can't look at Frankie – every time, I see that kid." He paused, and she waited. "Kara – " he broke off. Hanging his head in shame as he became overwhelmed.

"Hey, we'll figure this out," she reassured, placing a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Start small, okay? Make an appointment with Grantham tomorrow. He'll fit you in, and everything else we can work on."

"But the mission – " he started, and she cut him off definitively.

"I can't send you out there, not like this. I'll borrow Burk or find someone if I have to, but we need to take care of this first."

He exhaled heavily, scrubbing defeated hands over his face and leaving them there. Elbows resting heavily on his knees, he was lost. That much he knew, not sad, not angry, lost, and so he agreed. Not like he had any better ideas or any other plans – he took the leap of faith.

"Okay."

It was quiet, but it was the relief they both needed, and Sasha squeezed her hand on his shoulder, bringing it back to rest at her side instead.

"Okay," she agreed.

Some time later, she slipped into their bedroom. Danny had fallen asleep on the couch. She'd text Kara to let her know he was safe at their house. Promised to provide an update in the morning. Tom was awake, his face illuminated by the bedside lamp as it cast an orange glow across the bed. He was reading a book on warfare – he didn't read much of anything else though she gave little judgment to that fact. He looked up when she appeared, putting the book down on the table.

"You okay?" it was soft, not more than a whisper, and the lump that welled in her throat was uncomfortable as it was immediate. Tom's heart sank, knowing that expression well by now. One lost in thought and hampered by carried guilt. Sasha looked away, eyes fixating on arbitrary wrinkles in the sheets instead. Avoiding eye contact was the only way to maintain some semblance of control these days. It seemed that ever since breaking down in Charleston, he could see through her like glass. While it brought comfort to feel that she wasn't alone anymore, it also left her in the precarious predicament where a simple look from him, if too soft, could bring forth anything she might be attempting to bottle up. She was tired of crying, she really was. Tired of feeling so unlike her usual self. The silence was not more than a moment, but it was deafening enough for Tom.

He reached out, pulled back the covers, and spoke, "come here," to which she gladly obliged, not bothering to take off the robe as she snuggled in close to him. His arms were her comfort and safety; like she finally understood the clichéd sentiment of being someone's "rock". He tucked his chin atop her head as it rested in its usual spot and sighed. Rubbed large circles over her back as she fought to keep the tears at bay. It was one thing to know you'd failed someone, and it was another to see the damage firsthand; she was entirely unprepared for it. Sasha's pulse thrummed in her ears, focus narrowing down to the deep regret she felt over her lapse of judgment in Panama. Unsure if she would ever truly be "over it" – in fact, she was sure that no such state could exist in the future. The most she could hope for was a way to live with the guilt that didn't consume her every waking moment. Some days, she thought she could get there – others, she wasn't so sure.

This was one of those moments.

Danny returned home the following day, late in the afternoon. Having spent the majority of the day glued to Tom and Sasha's sofa, save for his appointment with Grantham, he figured it was time to man-the-fuck up and deal with his issues. Kara was playing with Frankie when he stepped through the door, Debbie sitting on the sofa watching with joy. The mood immediately shifted as Kara schooled her features into a trepidatious and cautious expression. Debbie immediately excused herself from the room – retreating instead to her bedroom at the back of the house, silently taking Frankie with her at Kara's request.

He stood awkwardly for a few moments, mouth making fish like motions as he struggled to find the right words to say.

"I'm sorry," he started, and her stance softened a fraction. "I uh – I spoke to Grantham today." He seemed unsure, clearly still struggling with the idea – with the concept of voicing out loud that he was not okay.

Kara's brows rose in shock, and she audibly sighed in relief, "that's a good thing, Danny." She encouraged, her tone reassuring and sympathetic. He sniffed, dropping eye contact in favor of looking at the converse she wore.

"He thinks I have PTSD," he muttered, and she nodded at him slowly, stepping forward to rest her hands on his cheeks.

"Okay," she said, and his eyes flickered up then – meeting her green ones that were distinctly watery. He searched them, looking for the judgment he expected but finding nothing but love and acceptance. Seeing instead that she looked at him just the way she always had and for a moment, he wondered why he'd waited so long at all to talk to her. She smiled at him softly, stroking her thumbs against his skin. "For better or worse, right?"

Danny sucked in a breath, suddenly becoming overwhelmed, and he nodded his head sharply. Gladly burying his face in her neck as she encircled him with her arms. He clung to her tightly as his shoulders shuddered, finally finding some relief from the proverbial anchor around his neck.

"I love you," he told her, his voice horribly strangled, but it was the only thing he could say to communicate effectively. Kara squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her fists in his shirt as she stood on tiptoes, trying to press herself as close to him as possible.

"I love you too. Don't ever forget that."