an. I am glad I left the temporary insanity of almost killing everyone off LOL. Anyway, we're moving into the final arc of this story, I don't know the exact number of chapters left, and things are always subject to change as I write them, but I anticipate this should be wrapped in the next 30,000 words or so.

Guest Totally agree on Kara, I feel bad for her and you're right on all fronts it's a big betrayal. I felt it was impossible for her not to be extra hurt in realizing Sasha has known and did this with him. Tom definitely got off easy, I think Sasha is in a place where she's battling on so many fronts, and now up against the wall on her actions in Panama, that the idea of a true blowout with Tom is too much. I think Tom has been in denial about how big his problems are, but enough things happened in Cuba to give him a slap in the face that he's at least identifying what a dangerous path he's on. His moment of reckoning is coming for him fast though, I can say that without spoiling.

Luna I felt so bad when I read that part about your comment before lol! But I think it had to happen. There's no way Kara doesn't have major 'why will you tell Sasha everything but not me', especially given Tom AND Mike also know. Sasha and Danny's friendship will remain solid though, no one here is going to be petty and issue ultimatums, but Kara did need to get the point across that he's telling a woman outside their marriage things he should be confiding in her too. My holiday was great, I love this time of year too! My birthday is a couple of days before thanksgiving and so is my husband's so it turns into kind of a whole month and a half of festivities! Regarding the new story, I am planning (please take with a grain of salt bc it could change) to have a Christmas fic up on Dec 22nd that will act as both a standalone flashback for St. Augustine AND a prequel for the AU. I think I'm going to root it in the same verse, but in this timeline, Darien/Tom just broke up (and she didn't get pregnant) which means Sasha and Tom ended up back together like planned. I spent some time this week making a general cast, and premise, but in this one, Sasha leaves the Navy after her original contract is up, and ends up recruited to the CIA! When S1 rolls around, that's where the new fic would pick up.

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Sunday, April 22nd, 2019—Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp, Guantanamo Bay Naval Base, Cuba

Gitmo was a place Sasha had never been. In all her years and travels, none had delivered her to the infamous base. The scars of the plague were evident—not a unique discovery—several of the unused buildings in disarray, and one, which used to house their most controversial prisoners, was blown clean in two. A building that Tom was staring at in a way that granted Sasha pause.

"Hey." Her voice was low, for his ears only. Tom redirected attention away from the dilapidated ruins toward her, the movement somewhat stiff. "Are you okay?"

Blinking the focus back into his eyes, he answered. "That's where we found Tex."

Tex. Tom had not spoken that man's name once to her since walking away and Sasha only realized her shock at receiving an actual answer because she didn't know how to respond. She reached out and took his hand discreetly, squeezing once before letting go.

Captain Utt approached from a building to their left, several hundred yards ahead—their new forward operating base. A decision that had been made in SouthComm by Joseph Meylan, and given approval by both CNO and, subsequently, POTUS to relocate from Haiti. Simply put, Gitmo offered the greater strategic advantage. The base in Haiti would be handed to the Jamaican's whose first objective was to liberate their own island, and from there assist Mexico in pushing Gustavo's forces back to the Guatemalan border. A line that would span straight across the Caribbean Sea if all went to plan.

The guy had been going non-stop; reluctant to leave Camp X without Toone and the Doc but serving his duty regardless to lead the establishment of the Marine's operation here.

"Captain." Tom extended his hand to Utt, who took it and returned a firm shake.

"Admiral." Utt looked then toward Sasha and nodded. "Ma'am."

"I'm sorry about your men," Sasha offered quietly.

Utt's features set into a deep line she recognized all too well. They'd been officially declared dead that morning, though they were still yet to recover any remains or effects.

"We all lost too many good people," he acknowledged. "I heard Miller pulled through?"

Tom answered, "He did. He'll be transferred from the James to the base hospital; taking visitors when you have time."

"Yes, Sir."

"What's our SITREP?" Chandler asked.

Utt shifted weight from one foot to the other, jutting one leg forward, and surveyed the mass of personnel hauling equipment and supplies to different buildings. "Positive, Sir. We're receiving more and more defectors by the hour. I put Barco in charge of processing them. He's taking statements and relaying any intel we can find on Salazar back to Command."

That piqued Sasha's interest. "Which building?"

Utt pointed to the right, and Sasha, after sparing Tom a glance, headed over.

Hanger bay one of Nathan James was alive with activity. Brawler's trusty bird, which had been flying almost non-stop, was prepped and ready to go out again. The sturdy hunk of metal that had served both she and her crew proud would make one last run to the mainland ahead of the James reaching port, and from there Brawler's beloved girl would be grounded for maintenance, leaving her time to wind down on base for a few weeks.

Beside Miller's transport cot, Burk was standing. One fist rested on the metal railing while his friend looked up at him with an earnest hope Burk couldn't help but find endearing.

"Did you get through to her?"

Burk smiled. "I did, and she said to tell you she'd find a way to come."

Miller blinked several times, mind rebooting over that information before a huge, drug hazy reverent grin spread across his features. "I'm gonna marry her, man. When she gets here, I'm gonna ask. Do you think she'll be okay with that? Like, I don't have a ring yet, but I swear as soon as I'm discharged, I'm gonna buy her the biggest diamond left in America."

Burk chuckled and patted Miller's shoulder. "Slow down, Casanova. She's not in it for the diamond—sides' you and I both know your ass is broke. You blew all that money from the book deal."

Though the weight hanging around Danny's neck was oppressive, listening to Burk and Miller from the sidelines still managed to pull some warmth into his eyes. A small curve at his lip fell the second he heard the announcement.

"Captain on deck."

His insides rolled and plummeted. Kara was perfectly put together, hair in her trademark neat bun, uniform impeccably pressed, and features set into their determined, authoritative way when she strode toward Miller's bedside. She didn't even spare him a glance.

Danny shifted on his feet awkwardly and tried not to make it so obvious that he was an outcast by double-checking the mags loaded onto the ready table at his right. Not that he was cleared for active, those were for their security teams, but he needed something to do. Something that would stop the intense ache beneath his ribs which told him he'd fucked up the most profound thing he'd had in his life.

He tried not to hear Kara joking softly with Miller, telling him he better hurry up and get his ass back together so he could join the invasion, Burk mirroring the banter. Banter that he would normally be part of. Even Pablo was occupied, following Brawler around the bay while she checked over her engine systems one last time. And Sasha was already on land; Brawler had dropped her, along with Slattery, Chandler, and Montano, on base an hour ago. Excuses about leaving the James having expired the second Swain confirmed the second Destroyer had pinged the satellite off the coast of Columbia at 0400 hours. POTUS had ordered a C130 to pick them up at 1400 sharp after confirming their airspace was secured. Nothing left for Danny to do here when he wasn't fit for duty—which meant his ass was on that C130 this afternoon too. Away from the fight. Away from Kara.

Their flight deck operator gave the five-minute warning, started wheeling the helicopter out onto green deck for take-off. And only when Miller was moved out minutes later did Kara finally acknowledge that Danny was staring at her. When she turned, the way her features set into coldness made his teeth clench. Taking a hesitant breath, Danny stepped forward, very aware of Burk stealing glances all the way from green deck while Miller was hauled up.

Danny's mouth opened to speak, and then he closed it again—had no idea what to say.

Kara folded her arms, gaze flicking down to the deck while her lips tightened.

He cleared his throat. "They're uh, they're sending me back home." Dumb. It was possibly the dumbest thing he could have chosen to say.

Kara bobbed her head. "I know."

Of course she knew. This was her ship, and she was the damn Captain.

"Kara," he breathed. She made eye contact again, and Danny didn't know why he hadn't spent every day of his life telling her how beautiful she was. "Can I call you?"

"Well you need to let me know what happens. So we can make a plan for Frankie."

Appearing breathless, Danny nodded and tried to keep the glass out of his eyes. "Right. Yeah, of course. I was gonna do that."

The edges of Kara's jaw bulged where she bit down, and she bounced her brows in a way that made Danny want to crawl. "If it has something to do with Frankie, you can call, but I don't think it's wise to do anything else. I need to focus here; this isn't a game, Danny. That Destroyer's still out there and Gustavo could launch an attack tomorrow."

He swallowed around the knot in his throat. "You're right. But you'll sink them Kara, I know you will."

She remained impenetrable, blinking instead, and unfolded her arms. "You should head out."

For a few seconds, he froze, caught between the obvious message that Kara wanted nothing to do with him, and the context that he might never see her again. That he could be sitting in a cell by the time she made it home.

"Just… Kara wait." She paused her retreat but didn't turn, not yet at least, and he took whatever chance he could get, approaching until he could smell the familiar scent of her hair as he spoke directly into her ear. "I'm sorry. I know you hate me right now, and you have every right to, but I'm not giving up on you without a fight. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. I love you, and I'll wait for you as long as it takes. I swear it, Kara. I'll do whatever it takes."

He saw her close her eyes, brow furrowed for a few seconds before she got control of her features again. "Take care of yourself, Danny."

It was all she said before she walked away. She didn't look back.

Sitting in the back of a C130 while Montano alternated between observing Admiral Chandler, his wife, and Green—the other operator involved in dismembering Vega's men—was like watching an over-torqued cable about to snap. Mike didn't know how they'd all made it the two hours in complete silence, or how Tom hadn't stopped Sasha from bouncing her knee—which Mike knew drove him insane—or how Green hadn't barfed yet because he'd looked two seconds from it the whole time.

Tension, which only increased when they were received by the man himself. President Joshua Reiss, who appeared every bit as pissed as Mike expected him to be about the convenient obstacles both he and Chandler kept throwing which prevented their return four days ago. Or in Chandler's case, over eight. If Mike didn't know the full scope of what was about to go down, he'd have thrown a wry smirk Tom's way. Instead, they all piled into the SUV and progressed toward the ass-chewing Mike was sure they'd endure for most of the afternoon.

His pacing was relentless upon the floors of the upper walkway. They'd been in there for forty-five minutes. Chandler, Slattery, Sasha… Montano. Master Chief, Meylan, and POTUS too. Danny had never lamented his lack of status more. He could see nothing through the frosted panes, yet still he started as though sheer will would dial him in. Almost considered asking Swain if he knew a way to hack into the conference phone without detection. Almost fell over the railing when the door finally opened, revealing Sasha. Just Sasha, who immediately looked up and made eye contact with him.

Danny swallowed. Feet carrying him double time toward the stairs.

Sasha spoke before he could get the words out, low and under her breath. "Nothing. It was all debrief on Cuba and qualifying intel—"

"So why are the rest of them still in there?" He couldn't let her finish before blurting it out.

"Because now they're gonna talk politics and strategy—Reiss dismissed me."

Danny stopped walking, falling out of step from wherever she was leading them, and Sasha turned.

"You can't make up a reason to be in there?"

Her expression morphed into something that reminded Danny so much of his late sister he had to blink. "No? There's no more intel to give, Danny. That's not how it works."

He scrubbed his hands aggressively across his face, the bruising protesting the contact. "Fuck!"

Sasha grabbed his arm, jerking him forward to start moving again. "Not here," she hissed.

Dragging Danny into Tom's office had been an unconscious decision. Her feet had carried her there of their own volition. Or muscle memory. Later, she might dedicate time to decide. After closing the door behind them, she stalked toward Tom's desk in search of the remote, but faltered when she noticed the envelopes. Sasha knew exactly what that was, Tom's unmistakable penmanship adorning each one. 'Kids, Sasha.'

"We're so fucked."

Sasha blinked several times rapidly and pressed the button which switched the glass frosted.

"Kara hates me, she won't even talk to me—I told her everything, I think—I think she's gonna leave, Sasha."

Physically, Sasha shook her head to force the feeling of believing Tom dead from her mind, attempting to focus on what Danny was saying. When she turned away from the desk, her posture was stiff. "What?"

The end to his renewed pacing was abrupt. "Kara, Sasha." It was said with frustration. "I told Kara and now she hates me."

Kara. Yes. "She doesn't hate you; she's hurt and depending on what you told her, she's probably realized how many people were lying above and beyond you." Sasha didn't bother amending her tone.

Crestfallen, he sank into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. "What am I supposed to do?"

All Sasha could think about was the envelope sitting behind her. "Try. And don't do the same shit you were doing before. You have to change, Danny, and give her time. Be the best Dad to Frankie you can be for as long as you can. You shouldn't even be here right now. Go home. Go spend time with your son, it might be the last that you have."

He drew his hands away, sitting up in the chair, and though Sasha's words had been difficult as much as direct, and she empathized with his pain, she knew it was right. It's what he needed to be told. Danny sniffed and cleared his throat, blinking away the moisture from his bloodshot eyes, and stood.

"You're right, I need to see him. You'll call me?"

"You know I will."

Lingering for a few seconds more, he looked at her. "Go," Sasha whispered.

Only after the door clicked did Sasha allow her frame to sag, moving to sink into Tom's chair where she stared hard at that envelope. So this is what it was like, she mused. To be reminded of the greatest terror she'd ever felt at random. Something he'd said, 'I can't have a life with you and then lose you,' surfaced from her memory and started playing over and over in her mind, to the effect that she hadn't moved by the time Tom entered his office. Elbow propped on his desk while she chewed absently at her thumb.

"There you are." Tom's voice rasped low through the room, and he closed the door with a gentle click. "I was looking for you, figured you'd be with Green."

Their eyes locked, and she stopped, lowering her arm. Sasha blinked a few times. "I sent him home—" glanced at the clock, had she really been sitting there for an entire hour? "—meeting's over?"

She got her answer in the way Tom approached the desk, his gaze flitting over those letters before he perched against its edge next to her. "Just Reiss and Montano now."

Oh.

Any sort of verbal response died under the action of chewing the inside of her mouth, which didn't offer enough activity to satiate her anxiety, so she started picking at her thumb again, ignoring the scabs that were calling her to mess with them instead. Tom stilled her hands with his own, encircling and then intertwining their fingers. Sasha thought he could probably feel them shaking.

"What does it say?" Sasha's question came close to a whisper in the still room. When he didn't answer, she peered up, caught by the depth of emotion entwined within blue.

"That you mean everything to me—in a long-winded way."

Everything about that put a knot in Sasha's throat, coupled with the realization that Tom would never go on a mission without making sure he left something for her should things go south, and not once in three years had she done the same. It felt like a personal deficiency, one she ought to correct. Perhaps something she should communicate once she found the words. Until then, she hoped Tom knew by the look she was giving him.

His thumb brushed back and forth a few times before Tom shifted his features back to neutral. "Montano sidestepped when Reiss asked about his knowledge of Arias and the original opp."

The line between Sasha's brows creased, something awfully close to hope rising before she deemed it foolish. "Most likely wanted you out of the room. So you can't sway what Reiss will agree to."

Something sparked in his gaze, but he remained quiet. An action Sasha had long since learned meant the opposite of agreement. She tilted her head, studying him.

"Tom whatever you think it is you're going to do, I don't want it."

Almost rolled her eyes when he averted his in that trademark way before drawing them back with defiance. "Objectively, you know I'm just as culpable as you are."

While true in the 'before', this was the 'after'.

"Things aren't black and white anymore, no matter how much you want them to be."

Brooding, his jaw twitched. "Who said I want them to be? Maybe people need to figure out I'm not their saint. Or hero. Or whatever crap they're calling it these days."

The bitterness in his tone got her attention. The concept that Tom disliked the public's perception since delivering the cure was well known, not only to her but anyone who spent more than five minutes in a genuine conversation with him. But somehow, she'd failed to consider that he felt trapped. Failed to connect several obvious dots when she took a step back from this whole thing.

Someone knocked and Sasha snatched her hands into her lap on reflex, a habit they'd both failed to outgrow ingrained after years of sneaking around. She stopped short of jumping out of his chair, though, and he didn't bother moving away.

"Come in."

Just Russ. "Admiral, Mrs. Chandler—POTUS is requesting both of you."

There it was.

The plummet of Sasha's blood pressure left her light-headed. Exactly why she used the aid of Tom's desk to push herself up from the chair. The short distance between his office and the conference room felt like being dragged from that tent in Panama. Her gut churned in the same way, every synapse screaming at her to run. If Russ noticed the fraught energy, he did well to ignore both it and the way she'd desperately glanced toward Tom when he'd opened the door.

Reiss was alone, both elbows upon his armrests, with his fingers steepled and resting against the proud marble surface. "Thank you, Master Chief."

Jeter nodded once and then closed the door. Neither of them moved, and Sasha hoped she was wearing an expression that didn't betray her desire to vomit.

"Take a seat," Reiss said.

Silence was one of the most effective interrogation techniques, and with every unbearable second while Reiss sat before them, leaned back in his chair with eyes narrowed—like he was pondering one of history's greatest riddles—Sasha felt her resolve splintering. Reiss leaned forward; causing her pulse to jump.

"Montano's willing to make a deal." He peered between them both. "Martinez, in exchange for ending the war."

Sasha stopped breathing. "What?"

"No."

They'd answered simultaneously. Reiss drew in a breath, one that screamed he'd expected nothing less from Chandler and bobbed his head. "I can appreciate why you'd—in particular—take issue with that, but he made a compelling argument, and I've already made the decision. I'm telling you both now as a courtesy."

Ticking her eyes to Tom, Sasha saw his posture go rigid, the set of his jaw harsh and angular.

"What could he possibly want with Martinez?" Her tone was incredulous, expression twisted between disgust, bewilderment, and intrigue, while Tom's conversely seemed chiseled from stone.

"We'll use him to turn the other General's against Gustavo—"

Sasha cut him off, words dripping with sarcasm. "Oh and Martinez is just going to agree to that?"

Reiss gave an arrogant smirk. "Working for the enemy in exchange for your freedom is hardly a new concept—of all people, I shouldn't have to explain that to you."

She scoffed. "This is ridiculous—you can't seriously think we can tru—"

"You mean like trusting you told me the truth about Panama?!" He jammed a finger on the table and Sasha's mouth slammed closed. Beside her, Tom blinked once slowly.

Reiss rolled his jaw while he seethed. "While I would like nothing more than to put you and Green in a cell—Montano is adamant that exposing our involvement would only prolong the war indefinitely." He paused, eyes dragging up and down Sasha's form in a clear dressing down. "And I'm inclined to agree." His tone made clear his concession had cost him something personal.

Flustered, Sasha made several motions with her mouth before choosing to discount the entire statement. "You don't understand what you've just done—"

Reiss, on the cusp of cutting her off to fire back his own response, was beaten by Chandler instead. "She's right."

The President left his chair, placing both hands palm down on the table while he "Now you listen, I have given you leeway on more than I should—" Reiss paused and made it a point to hold each of their eyes before continuing "—both of you, but I am still the President of the United States, and you will answer to me!"

Incensed, Sasha's nostrils flared, and she bit back on the stew that wanted to spew from her lips.

Tom, on the other hand…

"Montano's the only reason Gustavo's even made it this far!" Of their own accord, Sasha's brows shot upward, and she forced herself not to do more than stare at the TV screen behind Reiss. Tom had burst from his own chair, and there was no way his voice hadn't carried beyond their walls. "You've just handed him the keys to an entire army! What do you think's gonna happen after we end Gustavo?! He promise you we'd be allies?" Tom prodded, words entwined with sarcasm at the end.

"And how many more people are going to die while we chase six Generals across Central and South America, Admiral? We don't have the manpower for that kind of operation, not when we're holding three lines, and lost eight of our best operators in Cuba, and that doesn't include the ninth who might never walk again! It could take months—years—using Martinez to control those Generals is the best option we have in the national interest of ending this war!"

"You didn't ask for options," Tom sneered. "You made a decision based on a debrief that lasted two hours, and then walked right into Montano's hand as soon as we left the room!" Words terse and pushed through a clenched jaw.

It appeared Reiss didn't have a rebuttal, and Sasha stood. "Montano is the only person I have ever met that could out-strategize all of us." She paused, Reiss' focus drawing to hers albeit with some difficulty. "And you've just given him everything he needs to make Central and South America the kind of superpower the United States used to be." She watched as Reiss' jaw twitched. "Even if he doesn't double-cross us, you and America will be at his mercy."

Reiss straightened, steepling his hands at his hips. "Then you better make damn sure we can control him." His directive was tossed at both of them. "I've agreed to let Montano meet with Martinez tomorrow. Meylan will sit in. Once we have an understanding, the press will be briefed that Montano and Jamaica have joined the cause, and then we are gonna end this war."

The last time she'd seen Tom seethe this intensely, his hands had been wrapped around Martinez' neck.

"You're dismissed."