an. I have no good excuse for my lack of updates here other than season five gives me heartburn? I'm sorry, anyway, it's been so long and more than a year since some of these updates, if you need a refresher, the storyline beginning to tie in this update is laid out in Chapters 11, 12, 18, 19 & 20.

Guest review responses below:

Luna Ok, first, I'm sorry I haven't updated this one in so long I hope you're doing well, no idea if you're still around given I dropped off the face of the planet here, but either way: Thanks for much for your reviews on 1998, Come to Mayport and the snippets I posted for Evil Authors' Day of the AU fic (that I will eventually post I swear lol). AU fic will for sure include protective Tom moments because I'm subscribed to that narrative lol. I too don't watch Season 5 when I do a re-watch, of all the seasons, number 3 is the one I've watched inside out because I think it was the best characterization of Tom/Sasha and I need it to base fics off lol. I'm glad the line about fear of being alone vs dying resonated! It just feels like it fits them in my head, at least. I think Sasha, in a way, understands where Martinez is coming from and sees that he's been played by Tavo. Martinez is still a dick, but really… very little separates some of these antagonists from our heroes, at least in my verse, and Sasha knows very well that they are all humans who have made a complete mess of the world. (A lasting effect of falling so far as to lose her shit and pull Danny into committing war crimes.) Honestly, if I were writing from South America's perspective, they'd be pretty justified in hating the US for that whole fuel treaty move. I digress, politics sucks haha.

Guest I am so ready for Tom and Sasha to have some happiness again! All the crap is in the open, so now the real progress and healing can begin. Hope this chapter gives you what you're looking for on that front! Also, I just saw the review on the Evil Author's day… I am assuming it was from you! If not, disregard the rest of this, but I'm 99% sure it was ha! TY so much, I will unashamedly admit, I love Sasha being called Chandler lol. Why is that so satisfying? Anyway, yes, I am really excited to write a dynamic where their personal relationship has been solid (aside from the regular growing pains every long-term partnership goes through). I am finding in writing the chapters it's so fun because changing their past, dropping the kids, and also altering Sasha's career path makes them so different from how we see them in the show & St. Augustine. Hopefully, I can pull it off without feeling OOC.

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Wednesday, May 8th, 2019—Guantánamo Bay Naval Base, Cuba

Kara stepped into her cabin, the letter between her fingers weightier than physics should allow. A card had accompanied it, though she'd faced no issue opening that. It was from Frankie; a hand-drawn rendition of 'Captain Mommy' and the Nathan James now proudly displayed beside the computer monitor. The letter, however, was from Danny and now, with time to spare, Kara couldn't seem to read it. In truth, there'd been no opportunity to process the depth of his… Deception? Omission? Betrayal? And that she couldn't quantify a word to define his choices, spoke volumes.

There'd been one phone call shortly after Danny's return, informing her there was no court-martial. Her relief was fleeting, burgeoned by the unknown of what should follow. Whether to stay and 'fix' what remained of their marriage or cut her losses and move on.

A knock jarred her from reverie. Stuffing the letter in a desk drawer, Kara composed herself. "Come in."

Carlton poked his head around. "Got word from Fuentes' men, they found Toone's tags… Utt didn't want a ceremony until they had confirmation."

Swallowing, Kara stood. Though she'd interacted little with the Marines, as a leader, and having been present, digging side by side with Utt, she now felt bonded by shared experience. Ironic in how easy it became for her to see why Danny thought she'd 'never understand' what he did out there; the one tiny detail she was clinging to... the minuscule iota preventing her from taking off her ring and placing it in the same drawer as his unopened letter.

Friday, May 10th, 2019—USSOUTHCOM, Mayport, Florida

"This seat taken?"

Sasha clenched her jaw, refusing to engage while Nina Garside lowered herself into the open spot. It was rare that Sasha ate in the cafeteria, opting to bring food to her desk, or Tom's if she stopped to eat. This served as the perfect reminder of why.

"Have the table. I'm done." Sasha's chair dragged against the tile flooring, and Nina held up a hand.

"Just hear me out."

Ass hovering above the seat, Sasha paused and debated the validity of hearing anything Nina Garside had to share, nor was she above side-eying the timing. It was very well known that CNO was in St. Louis, the very person who presented the greatest roadblock to Garside's access at Southern Command.

"Give me five minutes," Nina reiterated when Sasha remained undecided.

Reluctant, Sasha lowered herself again and looked impatiently at the younger woman.

From the messenger bag strapped across her body, Nina produced a camcorder and set it before Sasha.

"What is this?"

"Play the last file. See for yourself," Nina chimed.

Ego almost propelled Sasha from the seat again, but she chose more diplomatically. Robotically, Sasha powered up the device and navigated to the files, admittedly given pause when she at once recognized the man depicted in the thumbnail. Gustavo Barras' baritone voice flowed quietly from its speakers after hitting play. It was filmed inside his compound. The one thus far, Armando and his men had only observed from a wide perimeter. Problem number one in creating a contingency plan... Armando and his men couldn't find a way inside without getting caught.

Remaining outwardly cool, Sasha stopped the video and placed the camera down. "What do you want?"

Sharp intelligence gleamed from Nina Garside's eyes. "My credentials re-instated, and a place on Nathan James when you invade. Exclusive."

Sasha made a dismissive humming noise. "That's an ambitious list."

"It's invaluable intel—"

"It's a matter of national security, and I could confiscate it without giving you anything," Sasha shot back.

Nina lifted a brow. "Last time I checked, the freedom of the press act still exists… but I've heard enough rumors to bet you, in particular, would make good on that threat."

Sasha felt the way her own gaze hardened. "Why are you bringing this to me?" she deflected. "I don't make those decisions—"

"Oh, I think we both know I'm talking to exactly the right person."

Cheeks hollowed a fraction, Sasha briefly looked away before returning eye contact. "Well, I'd sympathize that your career didn't take off the way you hoped after you published that article… but I don't, so."

It appeared that Nina possessed a modicum of decency. The hostile, haughty nature of her stance dissolved a fraction into something regretful. "I was just doing my job—"

"How did you find her?" Sasha demanded and later would analyze why she hadn't been able to suppress that outburst.

Nina blinked, and dropped the act, leaning forward with both elbows now rested on the table. "Honestly? I don't know that I did. I think she found me."

Sasha swallowed and folded her arms, waiting for Nina to continue.

"A few days after Reiss gave the briefing that Columbia staged the execution, I got an anonymous email with your birth name, and it led me to your parents. I did some digging; your mother registered a number a week later."

Sasha frowned.

"I know," Nina acknowledged. "This long after the plague, I figured it was fraud, but I left a couple of messages—never heard back. I put it on the back burner when Kelsi was named as a suspect, and then your mother called me right after Reiss announced the capture."

Cogs turning, Sasha murmured, "What did she want?"

"Information on a man, Richard Jennings—and to make sure I wrote that she was dead."

Sasha blinked slow and tried to ignore her synapses firing.

"I couldn't find much," Nina continued. "I know he was a Principal at your school, and there was a missing person's case filed after he failed to show for work. His wife was the primary suspect. DA opened a formal investigation once the statute passed limitations, and he was officially declared dead, but… they never could prove anything. No trace of him since 1988." Nina paused. "I gave her everything I found, and she sent me the information I needed for the article within the hour."

Funny, how only now Sasha remembered a few classmates talking about the Principal's disappearance—why the Vice had assumed Mr. Jennings' duties for over two weeks. Of course, at the time Sasha had been occupied with grief and then pulled from Milton Academy within a month of Peter Martin's passing.

Bounced tuition, she'd been told.

"And that was it? No money? Nothing else?" Sasha asked.

Nina leaned back again. "No—she just wanted information on Richard Jennings."

After mulling it over, tongue wedged between her teeth and gums, Sasha relented, unfolding her arms. "I'll take it up the chain. You'll have an answer by end of day, Monday." Desperate to excuse herself from Nina's presence, Sasha once again pushed back her chair and began gathering her tray. She had almost fully turned when Nina called out.

"I'm not the enemy, you know."

Sasha had to fight the scoff and walked away without turning back.

Sunday, May 12th, 2019—Green Residence, Neptune Beach, Florida

Reclined in two lawn chairs while Frankie alternated between playing on his swing set and jumping into the inflatable pool, Sasha and Danny supervised. The sunglasses hid most of his face, but from what she could tell, most of the swelling had gone down, though his skin still bore hints of putrid yellow. He nursed a beer while Sasha stuck with water.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Coop."

Her response was gentle, but matter of fact. "I'm not the poster child for good advice or smart decisions, Danny."

Craning his neck, Danny peered over his glasses. "No, but you and the Admiral are solid."

"You can call him Tom, you know?" she drawled.

"Feels weird." The dismissal was quick and followed by a swig.

It still gave Sasha pause on the rare occasion someone commented directly about their perceptions of her marriage. Not exactly surprising given neither she nor Tom were known to talk intimate details with external parties. Of anyone, Sasha felt Mike knew the most, and she couldn't recall a single instance of Mike gossiping.

"No real relationship is sunshine and roses. We have our share of issues," she offered.

Danny bunched his lips. "Admiral would never divorce you—and I don't think you would either."

Removing attention from Frankie, she studied his profile. "Kara asked for a divorce?"

Dejected, he huffed out a noise. "Not yet… but it came up before, and this time she won't even talk to me." He paused, the bottle resting on his thigh while he picked the label. "You know she said I should have married you?"

Sasha's features twisted. "What? That's—"

"Don't worry, I told her it's not like that, but it wasn't the point."

Taken aback, Sasha stared and digested. "Then you understand why she said that, right?"

His jaw ticked. "Yeah—cause I didn't tell her, and you knew the whole time."

Through her nose, Sasha sighed, shifting until she was leaning forward in the chair. "No. Because you tell me things that you refuse to talk about with her…"

"The Admiral doesn't have a problem with us talking."

Sasha fought not to roll her eyes in response to Danny's petulant response. "Because I don't tell you anything that I haven't told my husband first." She could see her words had the desired effect; a proverbial slap. "She loves you, Danny—she just wants you to let her in, and you haven't, and you know it."

"I tried that. I wrote her a letter with everything—literally everything, Sasha, and she hasn't even called." He put the beer on the ground and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "I think she's gonna leave me."

Sasha softened her tone. "Danny, it's barely been three weeks. I know it seems like forever because you're not doing anything right now but you can't fix something like this overnight with an apology... and the problem is more than just Kara. You need to figure out why you can't open up to her."

Though staring at the plush, thick grass, Danny was listening. "I don't—I don't know who I am without her."

His quiet confession sent a pang through Sasha's chest. "You're not alone, and you know I'm always here for you, but I'm not the one you need to say that to."

His soft laugh was filled with self-hatred. "Actually, that's in the letter too."

In the pocket of her jeans, Sasha felt her phone vibrate with a text. "Then don't give up. Work on yourself in the meantime and keep trying—" she retrieved the phone and read the brief message from Tom "—you're not the only one who screwed up."

That got Danny's attention; lifted his head.

"I was her friend too… all of this, Mike, Tom, you, me, her… we both screwed all of this up, we dragged all of them into this mess and she was the last to find out." Sasha swallowed. "It's not… you can't be part of something like that and think there won't be consequences."

A lull followed before Danny quietly inquired, "Have you spoken to her?"

Sasha bunched her lips. Shook her head. "I want to—I'm going to… but now is not the right time to add that to her plate."

Danny acknowledged nonverbally.

"They found Toone's tags this week, called the search off."

He sighed heavily. "How's Miller?"

"Good, actually." Relief lifted her voice. "Courtney's with him—she said yes."

Relieved when Danny's lip tugged into a ghost of a smile. "Yeah?" He picked up the bottle again.

"You don't need to exile yourself," she added softly. "They're still your friends… none of us can do this alone anymore."

After finishing the sip, Danny smacked his lips. "You sound like the shrink."

"Maybe because I started going again," she replied, flat.

His brow creased. "Thought you were good now? You're still grounded?"

"No—but I don't know what I would have done if you or Tom hadn't made it back from Cuba." Her features tugged helplessly. "I can't live like that anymore."

Sasha tossed her keys onto the kitchen counter and paused, reaching out to feel the soft texture of a rose petal from the bouquet Tom had given her Friday morning. For a moment, she simply studied them, a soft smile adorning her lips before drawing her hand away and fixing herself some dinner.

Sat at their coffee table, empty plate at her side, she scanned the papers spread before her, distraction coming when Tom's name lit up her screen.

"Hey," she answered.

"Hey yourself."

"Looks like you guys are having fun," she said, referring to the pictures both he and the kids had sent in their group chat earlier.

"We are." He seemed to hesitate. "We uh—we talked about some things. I think it helped."

She tried to mask the surprise, sure, he'd indicated he would. Promised, in fact, that he'd try but in truth part of Sasha still believed the sky would drop. That this was all too progressive to be real... "Good, I'm glad."

"How was your day?"

More comfortable with a routine question, her nervous tension eased. "Quiet. I went to see Danny, and now I'm just relaxing at home."

"How's he doing?"

Unintentionally, she sighed. "Not great. Physically he's better but…" and then trailed off.

There was silence for a few moments, and she heard what sounded like a door closing before Tom returned. "I'm sorry. You alright?"

She contemplated that briefly. "Honestly—I think I am. Don't get me wrong, I don't like what's happening but I can't keep blaming myself for every little thing. I can't. I don't have the energy for it anymore. I know we screwed up, but he made the choice not to tell her… you know I tried—"

"I know you did, Sash," he interjected gently. "You don't need to defend yourself to me. I'm on your side, you know that."

More of the awkward tension ebbed from her frame, and she settled back against their couch. "I do." Above anything and despite it all, Tom had made good on his vow to stand with her. Always. Swallowing, Sasha scanned those papers, desperate to tell him about her theory yet wanting to have the conversation in person. Mindful that she'd encouraged him to break away and focus on being present with his kids. That three days spent not worrying about her, or the war or the million other things she knew Tom took mental ownership of was imperative to his sanity.

"Actually, I got a text from Sam this morning," she chimed, switching direction, her tone leading.

"Okay?" The word was dragged out. Cautious.

Her brow furrowed. "You really don't know?"

"Baby, I don't know what you're talking about, what's going on?"

Recovering from the mild shock upon realizing Tom didn't have a behind-the-scenes hand, she elaborated. "He wished me a happy stepmother's day."

It didn't make sense, but somehow Sasha felt him relax again. "He's a good kid." There was a brief lull. "Ashley say anything?"

"No, and I don't need her to. Either of them. It was just—unexpected."

"She loves you in her own way, believe me when I tell you that—we talked a lot about Darien this weekend. She apologized again… for what she said."

Sasha's expression lifted hopefully. "She did?"

"Mm. Also told me all about Justin's stepmother being a raging bitch—her words—and that she was happy I picked someone so chill—also, her words."

That earned a small laugh. "Can't say I've ever heard you use the word 'chill'."

"I hope not to," he grumbled.

Shifting, and still smiling, Sasha tucked her feet beneath her. "Sam still want us to go up for the fireworks show?"

"He does. Won't stop talking about it."

They fell into a comfortable silence while Sasha ruminated over the stroke of fortune potentially laid at their feet in the form of Nina Garside's interview. Almost shared the hopeful news before deciding, once again, that part of their problem was the inability to make healthy boundaries between their work and personal lives. "What time are you getting in tomorrow?"

"Around three, why? You already miss me?"

She smiled again, holding the phone with her shoulder to pull the throw over her lap. "I always miss you when you're gone."

"That might be the most sentimental thing I've ever heard you say. You sure you're alright?"

Chuckling, she answered, "Don't get used to it."

"There you are," he drawled.

Lighter than she'd felt in months, maybe even years, Sasha's gaze fell upon one of the few pictures of them on the credenza. "I love you, Tom," she breathed.

"I love you too." She heard him inhale deeply, and then what sounded like a mattress depressing. Imagined he was now laying down.

After a time, he broke the companionable lapse in conversation. "Sash?"

"Mm?"

"I think I need to bury dad," he murmured.

The air left her lungs, rendered mute by both the weight and simplicity of that confession. The realization that Tom was in a place to voice it to her at all. She blinked away the moisture.

"Okay." It was somewhat breathless.

"And I need—I need you to help me."

Controlling her breath against the way her heart surged, Sasha swallowed. "Then I will help you."