an. *sigh* I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Anyway, spurred on by a little conversation this week, and the fact that I've drafted more than 10,000 words of scenes for this, I'm sharing some more. I don't know why on earth I am simultaneously writing three different fics about one couple, but here I am.

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The Devil's in the Details

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The time it took for the ruckus applause to abate and the crowd to leave the overstuffed conference was maddening. Captain Chandler loomed like a predator as their President sat in that chair wearing a tight, almost constipated expression until Sean's men led him offstage and behind the curtain. Tom wanted to be behind that curtain. But there was no way he—or his team—could get within twenty feet without blowing their fragile cover. Beside him, Sasha heeded his non-verbal cues, assimilating into the role of reverent follower while counting the number of guns she was up against. They were instructed by their 'savior' to enjoy the refreshments supplied in the lobby, and when the conference doors were swung wide, Tom caught her eye and motioned with his head for her to exit first.

How the hell was she here?

Reeling, he couldn't help but stare. Had she been sent by a central authority? Was she on a mission? Or was it pure dumb luck that landed them in the same spot? Maybe she had intel; something he could use to fight. She stopped. In no place more extraordinary than any other, but Tom noted it provided an unobstructed view of the entrances and exits into the lobby, and also avoided its choke points. The depth of comfort that brought was intense as it was unexpected. Sasha did nothing without purpose, and it confirmed that the skills he'd taught her were still sharp.

Tom could use all the sharp he could get.

Free of prying ears, her expression finally morphed—got softer and more reverent from its docile state—as much as Sasha would come to that.

"How?" That's all she managed.

"I could ask you the same thing." It sounded lame, but it was all his mind supplied, and all they achieved before Ravit and Burk lingered at her six and in his direct field of vision. Unsure whether to approach and blow their cover, they'd instead placed themselves strategically to provide extraction if needed. Tom gave a small signal to communicate they could advance, and after briefly looking at one another, Ravit and Burk joined the huddle.

All eyes fell on Sasha.

"This is Ravit, Burk." Tom's gesture in their direction was subtle, and each operative nodded when their names were announced. "They're part of my crew—"

Sasha snapped focus to him. "You still have a ship?" Murmured as not to be overheard.

Tom nodded once. "Nathan James. The cure too, but for some reason, these folks don't want us to spread it. Was hoping you'd know something about that." He watched as the reaction played over her features, though not with the kind of shock he'd expected. Tom filed that away, intending to dig on it.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I was in a safe zone. Heard about a group of survivors looking to re-establish a central authority and it lead me here. I haven't been able to connect with anyone from command since—"

"You're Navy?" Carlton interrupted, shifting a step closer.

Sasha's gaze darted to Burk, and she gave a curt nod. "Sasha Cooper."

And Tom hoped she hadn't registered the lightning-fast furrow of his brow, but the equally fast bounce of blue back to his signified otherwise. Cooper. She was married then; found someone. Wasn't self-absorbed enough to believe she'd spend her life alone—but—the stubborn, egotistical part of his brain was already wondering who this guy was. Where he was. Unconsciously, he looked at her hand. She wasn't wearing a ring.

"Well, we can use all the help we can get." Burk extended his hand, and she attempted to warm her features—been a while since she'd done that—felt unnatural and probably looked it too.

"You guys really have the cure?"

Tom chimed in, "We do—and we were trying to spread it, but they bombed our labs. Killed our scientists."

"Probably because they're all immune," she said, and there was something in the way her lashes shuttered that Tom noticed.

"And you?"

No nod this time, but an imprecise movement and concerted effort to remain flat. "I found out when the safe zone I was in failed."

So she'd almost died.

Cold swept him.

At least they were all on the same page regarding the larger facts, he'd seek for details later. Right now, none of this solved their most pressing issue—securing their Commander-in-Chief. As though scripted a cacophony of applause drew their attention. Jeffrey Michener accompanied by several of Sean's men had emerged from the conference room and were heading their way. Donning faux enthusiasm, they clapped and followed the group's progress through the lobby and into a different section of the hotel before stopping once more. This area was more open, like an atrium, and the pit of ill-ease widened upon watching the President work the crowd—shaking hands, accepting a child from a well-wisher like this was a photo op... making a show of pinching the boy's cheeks—Tom remained careful, however, to shield his face from Ramsey's men.

"Six commandos in here. I counted four in the hallway," Ravit said.

Sasha hadn't excepted the accent, and when she looked at Tom again, it was with confusion. "Why are you—"

"That goon over there in the blue shirt—" Tom tilted his head in the direction "—with all the scruff looking around? He was on Solace. If he recognizes me, we got problems."

The Solace? Last she'd heard they were dead in the water, overrun by the virus, much like everyone else on the planet.

Burk spoke up, "Sir, is that really the President?"

"If everyone in the bunker's really dead, then yeah. He was next in line."

"They're dead," Sasha confirmed, and Tom peered at her.

"Looks to me like he's playing a part," Ravit offered. They all observed. "His body language, expression—the way those two guys are up against him? He's being held against his will."

"If they have him, and they can somehow piece the country together, get communications up—they'll control everything. The federal reserve. The military..." Burk said.

"That's not gonna happen," Tom announced. "One way or another, we're getting our Commander-in-Chief out of here."

Though she was trying to maintain a neutral expression, Sasha was fairly sure a smirk was imminent, tickled by the sheer improbability that she'd not only found Tom but a mission as well. There was a hint of something at play in his brilliant eyes—eyes that seemed intensely blue in the Floridan hue.

"You up for a fight?"

That smirk came, along with a kind of purpose Sasha hadn't felt in months. "With you? Anytime."

Tom's lip quirked when he fought to suppress the natural inclination to jump on that remark, very aware that Burk's brows were almost at his hairline and the Lieutenant was discretely trying to catch Ravit's eye.

Along with the dimple on her cheek, Sasha's amusement deepened. "I have a couple weapons stashed in my room. We can game plan there."

And she may have imagined it, but his voice came deeper than it should when he responded, "Lead the way."

By the elevator doors, Tom and Sasha lingered while Burk and Ravit performed recon. Their intent, and the plan, was to discover which floor Sean Ramsey was keeping Michener on. Against the river-rock wall, they leaned, Tom with his arms folded, and Sasha picking casually at a nail.

"So—you're a Captain now."

"Commander," he corrected easily. "Nathan James is my first command."

An ironic curve adorned her brow. "Hell of a way to start."

Tom didn't disagree. "What about you? Still intelligence?"

She wet her lip before answering. "A form of it—different, though."

"Above my pay grade?" There was an easy smirk over her guarded response. One that sent touches of warmth through her soul that she'd frankly forgotten were missing. With a half shake of her head, Sasha realized notions like security clearance were at this point redundant, and if Tom had survived this long, as to have a cure, and if they somehow made it out of all this—well—his pull would vastly eclipse the likes of her.

The tension in her body loosened a modicum. "I moved to D.I.A. for five years before I was recruited to go off-book, so to speak."

"So you're a spook," he surmised.

A level of fondness lurked in his tone that gave her pause, and then warmed something. The very concept seemed unfamiliar after suffering such hell. "I guess you could say that. Navy still signs my paycheck though."

"Hm," he acknowledged before turning back to scan the throng of bodies in the lobby. There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before Sasha spoke again.

"I was supposed to go to Asia in May to investigate the outbreak. I was briefed about Doctors Scott and Tophet. I didn't know it was your ship, though." Her clarification was quick as it was earnest. "They kept that highly classified—you should know if I had, I would have reached out. At least given you a heads up to get your family safe."

Tom frowned. Clearly, she wasn't in Asia, and she'd known as early as May that this level of catastrophe was coming. An entire month before they'd set sail... "You knew this would happen?"

She shot him a sardonic look. "You don't need a science degree to figure out there's a problem when they're talking about sending two scientists on a secret mission and kitting out the Presidential Bunker, Tom." Sasha blinked a few times then inhaled and continued in a more reasonable tone. Reminded herself Tom had no way of knowing half of what went on logistically behind the scenes. "The decisions from the top moved too fast—didn't make any sense. They wanted to send me to Cairo, then Japan, and then settled on Hong Kong at the last second—never seen that before, not on my desk at least, and certainly not over the flu."

"Is that why you didn't go?"

She shook her head, swallowed visibly enough that Tom was about to ask if she was okay, but stopped when her gaze cast off toward the elevators. There was pain there. Could hear it when she answered, despite the attempt to mask it. "Failed pre-op—old injury flared up."

On reflex, he swept her body visually and tried to reconcile the way she'd zoned out with the words given. From peripheral, Sasha watched Tom scrutinize.

"Sasha—"

"Leave it alone." It was blunt and clipped in delivery.

In a way that left her feeling exposed, he continued to hold her gaze before he complied. Let it go and once again monitored the milling crowd.

"Darien didn't make it." Shared quietly, the pain sharp in his chest at the mere mention of her name.

"I'm sorry." She hesitated for a second, scared to hear the next answer. "Your kids?"

"Safe. With my father in Virginia—"

Inhaling with a vigor that seemed to brighten every feature, she relinquished that fingernail. "Jed's still alive?"

For the three years she'd known his father they'd meshed—too well—most of theirs and his siblings' banter made at his expense. He couldn't prevent the way his lip curled, and there was hope in her voice, which stung when she clarified, "What about Katie and Matthew?"

As fast as the levity arrived, it evaporated. "No news. Dad couldn't reach them in time—your parents?"

"Dad died a few years ago. Cancer. Mom—" she broke off, her lips thinned and white. "Well—you don't figure out you're immune because your family survives."

In respect, Tom lowered his chin and found that he'd unconsciously clenched both hands when the pressure registered upon his biceps. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

"Lot of people…" Entrapped, he watched various emotions roll across her face until settling into despondence. Haunted. "It's a lot of people, Tom."

He was lucky.

Lucky not to have been on the ground. Hundreds, sometimes thousands of bodies out there in failed safe zones. In houses and on streets. In cars and buildings, all rotting where they lay. The earth stank of death these days. It permeated her dreams.

Sasha inclined her head and pushed away from the wall. "There he is."

Tom rectified his posture too, unaware of how close he'd leaned—mere inches of space separating them—in awe over the improbable level of circumstance which left her not only alive but immune.