This was becoming a routine for him, Sasha pondered while they hiked the steep cliff. Side by side. Always. On every single mission that had the potential to become more than rudimentary. She was beginning to wonder if he told Green, Wolf, and Burk ahead of time to make room for him because there seemed to be a very distinct understanding that no matter where she moved, she was always sandwiched in the safest possible spot in the formation. Honestly, she hated it. Didn't need to be coddled.
When they swept an unsecured room—he went first.
When they crossed unsecured terrain—he went first.
When they encountered potential hostiles—he stood closer and slightly in-front, so he'd be hurt first if it all went south.
Unspoken. Subtle. Always protecting her.
She didn't need it—but she suspected it made him feel better, so she played along.
Of course, when the bullets had started flying, and their reluctant tour guide shot dead before their eyes, he'd flanked her immediately. Stood in the path of that firestorm and blocked her until she found cover behind a truck. Only then did he move to find cover himself. She was going to get him killed if he didn't stop.
When they made it back to the James with the evidence needed to tie Peng to the tampered missiles, Sasha decided to confront him. They were in the Helo bay, returning equipment to the ready tables and dismantling their weapons. Tom doing his part, though a Boatswain had offered. 'Just a body with a gun', as he called it. He stilled his movements as Sasha approached. Caught in the middle of unloading extra ammunition from his tac vest. He raised his eyes slowly in acknowledgment, waiting for her to speak.
"You have to stop doing that." Firm and straight to the point. She was pissed. That much he could tell.
Tom pursed his lips and set his things down, giving her his attention. Perfectly even-keeled. "Doing what?"
Her head titled with an attitude, not buying his shit for one second. Tom knew full well what she was talking about. "You covered me instead of finding cover for yourself." Her words were punctuated with a quirk of her brow. The eyebrow only quirked when she was furious, he remembered. Not one to shout or scream. Sasha burned cold.
Tom swallowed and looked down before resuming eye contact with her defiantly. He wasn't sorry, and he had no intention of denying it either. Exasperated by his reaction, Sasha shook her head and scoffed. For a forty-seven-year-old man, he could still be a petulant child. She fixed him with direct glare. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you, Green or Burk, to watch over me."
Left quickly after that while Tom pursed his lips and worked his jaw. Noting that Green was trying hard to pretend he hadn't overheard. So much for impartial, he thought to himself.