Friday, December 9th, 2016—Mount Pleasant, South Carolina—1930 hours
"Alright, they're here!" Kara uttered in a hushed tone gesturing with her hands for everyone to move.
The group dispersed quickly, taking various hiding places throughout the main living room and upper walkway. The sounds of tires crunching on gravel followed by slamming car doors and inane chatter floated muffled from the exterior. Miller glanced toward Burk, excitement evident, and tried to stifle the mischievous laugh from bursting forth. His fingers were itching to pull the party string in his hands.
"Ash—don't forget to grab your trash—"
"Just leave it—I was planning on cleaning it this weekend anyway, I'll throw it out tomorrow," Sasha interjected, hoping the lie wouldn't cause too much suspicion on Tom's part. It had been bad enough trying to get the James docked in Charleston without his notice—a near-impossible feat achieved only with the help of Slattery and President Oliver himself. The sound of a key turning the lock echoed across the cavernous ceilings, the dozen crew members waiting with bated breath for the door to swing open.
"Shit, I left my phone in the car."
Mike gave an exaggerated eye roll as a few members of the group let out quiet groans.
"Shh!" Kara hissed sharply.
"Wait, it's jammed—can you get it?" Sasha said.
Inside, the crew primed themselves again, while outside, Tom frowned. Turned away from the porch steps to heed Sasha's request, confusion only deepening when it opened with ease and he stepped into pitch-black the foyer.
"Babe, the door's—"
"SURPRISE!"
Tom recoiled, almost pulling his gun before understanding what was going on. A chorus of voices assaulted him, the lights kicked on, and streams of multi-colored string descended from the upper walkway of the stairs accompanied by the blare of kazoos and party poppers from every direction.
"Happy Birthday!"
After recovering his shock, Tom turned to Sasha, a slow wide smile spreading across his lips. "You did this?"
Sasha nodded through her laughter, Miller, and Burk choosing that moment to attack her with the remaining party string. With a yelp, she held up her hands to protect herself as they aimed from above.
Tom shook his head and laughed. All four of them were covered head to toe in no shortage of florescent crap, confetti, and string ribbons alike. Even Ashley's sour exterior had softened in favor of wonder as she noticed the banner pinned up high in the living room. It read 'Happy Birthday Tom & Ashley' and though the actual date of hers fell on the thirteenth, it was close enough and an appreciated gesture. The ire over being stuck in Charleston for her fifteenth away from her friends eased considerably. Ashely spotted Kat and Diaz and waved before heading to greet them.
"Say cheese," Mike called, drawing all of their attention just in time for a dozen pictures to be taken by their unexpected guests. Mike smiled when he reviewed the image and tucked his phone away before stepping forward to shake Tom's hand.
"Happy Birthday my friend." He pulled him into a one-armed embrace.
Tom returned the gesture. "Good to see you, though I'm gonna need an explanation on how you docked here when the James is supposed to be in Mayport." In his peripheral Tom watched Sasha hug several members of the crew and vulture team alike that neither of them had seen for months.
Mike stepped back, only then catching the reflection of light from Tom's left hand. He tipped his head in interest. "Looks like we both have some explaining to do?"
Tom gave a lopsided grin, "I'm assuming you brought cigars?" A deflection while brushing pieces of string and confetti off his clothes.
Mike patted the pocket of his jacket. "Courtesy of our new friend Arias."
"Knew there's a reason I keep you around." Tom's attention was drawn to Burk, Miller, Wolf, and Granderson, who were all congregating and waiting to greet him.
Jerking his head in the direction of the back patio, Mike replied, "Whenever you're ready. I'm gonna grab a beer and say hello to your wife." The shit-eating grin on Mike's face only confirmed that he'd very much intended the others to overhear.
"Wait, are you serious?" Miller blurted out, his focus settling upon the plain gold band. He let out a jubilant sound, and then punched Burk in the shoulder. "Look!" pointing "That means I won! You need to pay up."
"You making bets on my personal life Miller?" Tom barked.
Miller reflexively straightened and stood to attention. "Uh, I'm sorry, Sir."
Burk and Alisha did their best to maintain passive expressions, aware that the Admiral was busting his balls, but it seemed, as usual, that Miller was oblivious. Tom milked it, fixing Miller with the kind of stoic, cool gaze he knew intimidated so well, before slowly allowing mirth to creep through.
Burk snorted and brought his fist up in an attempt to stifle his laugh, the action enough for Miller to finally catch on.
"Wait—you're not actually mad?" Miller said, bewildered, and Alisha burst into laughter.
"You should have seen your face," she said, amusement only growing when a hot blush crept up Miller's skin turning the tips of his ears red.
"Screw you guys," Miller mumbled.
With a slight swagger, Tom stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Miller."
Mike caught up to Sasha in the living room. She'd managed to clean herself up for the most part and was chatting with Azima.
"Cooper," Mike greeted, enveloping her in a firm hug and placing a brief kiss on her cheek. Sasha beamed and squeezed his shoulders while he pulled back. "Or should I say Chandler?" he asked, raising one brow and moving his focus toward the simple dainty gold band on her finger.
Though trying to play it off, her blush was still evident. Gave him a pointed look as she answered, "Cooper—last thing I need is my face plastered everywhere."
Mike gave a curt nod though he was smiling. "I'm happy for you. About time he pulled his head out of his ass."
"Agreed," Azima said, fixing Sasha with a glare before excusing herself to greet the Admiral in the foyer.
With a soft sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, Sasha rolled her neck. "Actually, I had him beat on this one." She fell into step with him toward their kitchen, elaborating after receiving a confused look. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time he asked me to marry him." She grabbed one of the wine glasses set out and poured herself a healthy amount of white. Mike followed suit and grabbed some local brew from the cooler, drinking from the can.
"Really?" He said, interest keenly piqued.
"Mmmm—before Darien," she mentioned casually, loading up a plate of food.
Mike quirked an eyebrow and spoke through a mouthful of bruschetta. "Well, he is punching. Can't say I blame you for turning him down." The smile on Sasha's face caused her cheeks to dimple as she tucked her head down a fraction. "When'd you two fools make that happen anyway?"
"November 4th. We were going to invite you, but the timing didn't work out, well, actually, we didn't end up inviting anyone. Just us, the kids, and two witnesses," she elaborated, and Mike nodded. The James had been on a vital supply run that fortnight. With Garnett assigned to engineering the Michener and Kara on leave—he couldn't be spared, even for a marriage.
"S'ok—I hate weddings. Usually long, boring, and stuffy with way too many speeches."
Sasha tipped her head, "I agree, that's why I didn't want to make it a big deal." She wiped her mouth with a napkin before continuing. "We're trying to keep it quiet. In the circle, so to speak," she added, glancing at him, and his expression changed quickly into seriousness.
"Understood—I'll make sure the crew keeps it secure."
Her smile this time was much heavier. "Thank you. I wish it didn't have to be that way, but until I'm done with missions, we can't risk it getting out. Maybe in a couple of years, when things are more stable..." A hand on the small of her back caught her attention, and she turned, settling herself against Tom's side as he joined them. Her demeanor lifted again when she noticed the pink string still caught in his hair, removing it while he considered her, no attempt made to conceal how much he loved her at this moment. A small grin pulled at the corner of his lip before he focused his attention on Mike.
"You two conspiring at my expense?" Tom said accepting the beer that was handed to him.
"I'm not at liberty to disclose," Mike answered.
Quirking a brow, Sasha curled her fingers into the muscle of Tom's back. "Just wait until you see the cake."
Jerking his head, Tom frowned, tracking her slow retreat while she goaded him with her eyes.
"What does that mean?" He asked, but she only shook her head, waving her fingers goodbye before she turned and focused on mingling with their guests.
Mike deflected by holding up his free palm when Tom turned back. "I know nothing."
The party was in full swing. The three oversized sofas had been re-arranged to allow a large expanse of floor space that functioned as a dancefloor, currently host to a wild assortment of moves from the crew. Sasha lingered watching from the kitchen as Miller attempted some kind of worm maneuver on the ground, with Sam quickly following suit. Taking stock of the room, noting thankfully that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves just fine—Ashely included.
The Green's arrived the day prior, a suggestion that they could use a weekend together sans Frankie from Sasha. The house was more than big enough to accommodate both couples for the weekend, even with ten other guests intending to crash. Kara wondered over, Danny had spent most of the night with Burk and Miller. Something that hadn't escaped either of their notice. She poured herself a whiskey and settled back against the counter next to Sasha, joining her in quiet observation from the sidelines.
They stayed that way for a time before Kara spoke. "How did you do it? Even after he left, you guys made it work."
Sasha followed Kara's gaze to where Tom stood by the fireplace. As was typical, he was surrounded by company; Russ, Joe, Andrea, and Mike. Seemingly on cue, he looked up and caught her across the space. He lingered for a few seconds, a distinct warmth softening his features, and Sasha smiled softly in return before he was drawn back into the surrounding conversation.
Sasha shrugged, her lips drawing tight across her teeth as she considered whether there really was an explanation capable of encompassing Kara's request. "I just—I love him. At the end of the day, nothing he does will change that." She paused before continuing, "The only difference is we finally stopped fighting it."
Sasha sighed and put her glass down, turning to fold a cotton napkin on the island with precision. The momentary distraction gave her pause enough to formulate her next words. She looked up, facing Kara this time. "Danny loves you and Frankie more than anything. Right now, he's scared, and he's running. I can tell you from experience that's a hard cycle to break."
Kara narrowed her eyes, blinking against the lump in her throat.
Sasha reached out to touch her upper arm, a reassuring gesture. "Don't give up on him—it's not easy, it will never be perfect, but he will come around. I know it."
"How can you be so sure?"
Sasha smiled then, ruefully. "How much do you know about Tom and I's history?"
Kara judged her response carefully. "Not much, actually. The consensus is that you obviously knew each other before." Mindful not to share the sordid details of the theories passed through scuttlebutt regarding the over-familiarity of their Captain and resident spook. Even ones as salacious as an extramarital affair. For all of their guesses, one point remained consistent—whatever history lay between them, it clearly was not platonic—the only variables were when and how it went down.
Sasha gave her a small knowing grin. "We were together before he met Darien."
Kara faltered, taken aback for a moment that Sasha seemed to have read her mind. "To be clear, I never thought the Admiral would cheat on his wife. You can thank Miller and some of the younger guys for that."
The corners of Sasha's eyes wrinkled in amusement—it was fitting. Knew the rumors had gone into overdrive after Tom left; her withdrawn behavior had added fuel to that fire, yet at the time, she'd been too despondent to care. The sympathetic glances thrown her way any time his name was mentioned did nothing but add salt to the festering wound.
"He asked me to marry him, and I ran. I moved to another state when he went home for Thanksgiving... didn't give him the chance to say goodbye."
Kara did her best to hide the shock but ultimately failed, the way her eyebrows rose, illustrating it.
It still crawled uncomfortably whenever Sasha considered how cruel she'd been. "We crossed paths two years later, right after Ashely was born." There was a brief lull. "Even after what I did to him, he still looked at me like I was everything—and twelve years later, right before he went to board that plane in Asia he did it again." The confession was quiet and Sasha shifted her focus back to Kara. "Danny looks at you that way. When you love someone that much, it doesn't matter how long it takes, who they're with, or how far away they are. It doesn't stop."
Kara swallowed.
"The good news is that you're already married. And neither one of you is pretending not to be in love," Sasha quipped, quirking her left eyebrow. "Be patient with him, it might not look like it, but he is working his way back to you and Frankie. In the only way he knows how."
It settled between them, and Kara blinked the sheen away. "I really hope you're right. Lately it feels like all I do is make it worse. I try and give him space, don't pry—but he still won't tell me what's going on in his head. Half the time, it's like he's not even here. I don't know how to make it work when I go back to Nathan James and he's cleared for missions again." Her tone was sullen, a little bitter, and Sasha looked down, trying to suppress the guilt she harbored for her part in all this.
"You guys remind me of us—right people, tough circumstances."
Kara snorted, "I don't think you and the Admiral got pregnant on a ship in the same command."
Sasha was prepared for that retort and paused, eyes dancing with amusement. "Not quite—but he was my superior officer."
Kara's mouth fell open, the implication coloring her a little incredulous, and absently Kara noted that Danny's guess had been right all along. The relative ease with which their Captain had accepted their infraction and leniency on her punishment clicked into place.
"Can't help who you fall in love with. Frat rules be dammed," Sasha finished.
Recovering enough to process, Kara, tipped her glass."That, I can drink to." She knocked the amber liquid back, wincing as it burned a fiery path down her throat.
Russ whistled one long sharp tone over the noise of the group drawing their attention. In a few short moments, the music was paused, and everyone gathered in the living room. He beamed at the faces before him, becoming emotional when he considered how hard they'd all fought to be here; the sacrifices and strife it had taken to enjoy something so normal again.
"Alright, where are my birthday people at?" His warm timbre echoed around the room.
Ashley poked her head out from behind Burk and stepped forward, tugging the ends of her sweater to cover her hands. Russ encouraged her with an expression and then inclined his head at Tom, who was still lingering by the fireplace. "You too, Admiral."
Mike pushed him forward, taking the beer out of Tom's hand, who sauntered over and put his arm around Ashely where they now stood front and center.
"I know you're not much into speeches—we'll have more than our share of those in a few short weeks," Russ started, earning a few appreciative nods and chuckles from the crowd before he continued. "So I'll keep it simple. Each of us is blessed to be here today. Family is what you make it, and I have never been more humbled to stand here, nor could I be more honored to serve amongst you all."
"Here here," Mike called, raising his bottle.
"So without further a do—Ashely, Admiral—" On cue, Sasha and Kara appeared from the kitchen, each carrying cakes. Danny set down a small table in front of Tom and Ashely, and they placed them down, candles dancing in the shifting air.
"Happy Birthday to you," Russ started the group off, and they enthusiastically joined.
Sasha watched as Tom leaned closer, inspecting the design. The frosting made it resemble an AARP card, in fact, it was an exact replica, right down to the membership number, and her efforts were rewarded with laughter when he read it.
'123UROLD' signed off with 'Happy 50th Birthday' at the bottom.
He drew his gaze to her, mouthing the word 'cute'.
Sasha winked back, trying to ignore the palpitation of her heart. It hit from nowhere; how happy and carefree he looked. How easy his wide smile was. How beautifully his cheeks dimpled. In an instant, she was thrust back almost two decades, when her only concern had been how to stop crushing on her distractingly handsome instructor, and a sense of profound peace settled upon her.
Tom didn't have time to interpret the way her features softened because the drawn-out notes of 'you' rang through the room, signifying his need to blow out candles. When the claps, cheers, and commotion died down enough for him to glance over again, the look was gone.
Sometime close to midnight, Sam was regretting not taking a nap in the car. His eyes drooped—heavy and sated from the overabundance of food and cake he'd dutifully consumed. Wolf chuckled when he walked by to re-join Azima on the dancefloor, and Sam could only half muster a nod in response, sinking deeper into the cushions of the sofa.
In the center space, Tom, and Sasha swayed together, Tom's left hand in the small of her back, and his right holding hers against his chest. Sasha had kicked off her boots a while ago, and her toes dug into the rug's soft fibers. A variety of genres had played throughout the evening, but as with any respectable party, the time for overplayed love ballads and clichéd classics had dawned. Sasha laughed in a soft breath as the familiar notes of that stupid James Blunt song floated through the room, recalling how inescapable it had been.
She felt Tom's chest reverberate against her cheek as he spoke. "Oh come on, how can you not love this song?"
He was guiding them in a small circle perfectly on tempo.
"You can't be serious," she drawled, pulling her head back so she could see him. Tom peered down; a gentle smile at his lips, eyes narrowed with the effects of the alcohol they'd both consumed. A playfulness she didn't see enough anymore twinkled in their depths.
"I saw an angel, of that I'm sure. She smiled at me on the subway. She was with another man," he sang, dipping her for dramatic effect. Sasha let out a startled but gleeful yelp when he lowered her, relaxing once she registered his intent. Tom held her there for a few moments, no longer singing, rather admiring how beautiful she was, and Sasha felt heat creep up her neck.
Tom drew her up again, and she gently shook her head. "I don't even know where to begin." Smile evident in her tone. Really, Sasha was mostly unsure whether to be more shocked that he knew the words or that he appeared to like it.
God, when he looked at her like that; charming and full of charisma she couldn't think.
"It's not so bad," he replied—coy. "You pretend not to be, but you know you're a hopeless romantic."
Her scoff was sarcastic in nature. "Says the Admiral singing you're beautiful to his wife in front of his sailors." Her right eyebrow lifted, an attempt to goad him into conceding, but he didn't react. Merely drew his hand away from her back to frame the angle of her jaw, fingers sliding through her hair.
"The Admiral is about to kiss his wife in front of his sailors," he warned, giving her but a fraction to react before capturing her lips.
Mike watched from the rear porch as he puffed on a cigar, a reserved smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw Tom dip Sasha. The sounds of her laughter floated through the open french doors before being lost to the night. It was cool, dew settling and glistening as it clung to the blades of grass and wooden decking. A head of strawberry blonde appeared in his peripheral, Andrea, and he inclined his head tightly at her in greeting. Not missing the reflection of everything he was feeling written across her face.
They'd all lost people. All known the darkness and despair. Some, years before the Red-Flu—like Russ. Others, quickly, like him. Not one day after Captain Chandler uncovered the ugly truth from their scientists. Some, like Tom, knew their families were still out there, waiting for their return. But others, too many others like Andrea, had no news from home. Had nothing but blind faith to carry them through, only to learn the devastating truth upon docking in Norfolk.
Everything they'd held dear was gone.
Some days, Mike still lived in that limbo. Almost convinced that if he just waited a little longer, he'd be spared. That Christine and his girls would reach out to him from thin air. Despite logic, reason, and fact—he still hoped. Andrea understood that better than anyone. It was the reason he hated downtime. Why he kept busy, why he didn't like to linger too long as others moved forward with their lives, and he stayed stuck. Stuck replaying the awful conversation he'd last had with his wife, the months of fighting before his departure. In hindsight, it had been petty and insignificant and the fact that he'd cut off his right arm with a dull knife just to see them again percolated in the dark.
Andrea gave him a soft smile, her round blue eyes kind and empathetic. "Doesn't get any easier does it?" Her words were soft, and she sipped from her glass of water.
Mike swallowed against the lump in his throat, his teeth clenched as he sighed. "No." It was quiet, more gentle than his usual bravado.
Noticing the glassiness of his eyes, Andrea reached a hand out discreetly, covering his fingers with her own—surprised by just how nervous she felt. Hadn't been conscious of fearing rejection until she'd tried; felt her breath hitch and her heartbeat increase while waiting for him to respond. Mike's fingers twitched, a moment of indecision sweeping him before he turned his palm and took her hand.
They stayed that way in silence, observing the happy couples dancing together though Mike's attention was now drawn to the petite woman beside him. Andrea's soft hum of approval and wistful expression when Tom kissed Sasha, warmed him in a way that it hadn't before. His eyes softened, crow's feet wrinkling at the corners.
Perhaps it was time to put serious thought into moving on.