CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tom Chandler

Tom Chandler was locked in a vicious cycle in his own brain. He watched Tex collapse into the chair. Speak his last words. He heard Shaw goad him. He felt the intense pain and guilt rip through his insides. He felt the cold steel of the gun in his hand. He fired one shot. Pain. Guilt. Sorrow. And repeat. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't wake up.

Then it shifted. Someone was grabbing him. Someone had latched onto his arms, tight. He was being shaken. The narrative became confused in his mind, the darkness and pain expanding. What was happening?

He jolted up and away from the hands on his arms. Had Shaw not died from the shot? Was she trying to finish the job? Or maybe one of her men? Where was Tex? Still dead. Tom pushed up and away. He scurried on his ass and hands. He needed to break away.

Escape. It was his only chance. But to where? The hands were on him again, and there was a new voice. Soft soothing. What the fuck. Who was that? Pain. Sorrow. Guilt. Rage. He sprang to the side, needing to get away, at all costs, he needed to get away.

"Tom," someone said. It was hard and soft at the same time. It was commanding but soothing in a weird tone. He still didn't know who could be talking to him. They were all dead. All of them, every single one. And he had murdered Shaw. He pushed the hands away again, frantic now.

Where could he go? Why was he still here? Make it stop, his brain pleaded. Pain. Sorrow. Guilt. Rage. The hands continued to find him, and he was starting to hyperventilate. He felt trapped. He felt lost. He felt…scared.

"Tom," the voice again. Soothing this time, quiet. He knew that voice. He opened his eyes and there sat Sasha staring right back at him. He blinked. The airplane gone. The dead bodies gone. He looked around, he was in his living room, and Sasha was there.

"What…what happened?"

"I was going to ask you that. One minute you were sound asleep in my lap. The next you were fighting for your life."

"I…was…stuck…,"

"Stuck how? Where?"

"On the airplane," Tom breathed out. He reached up with his hands and scrubbed at his jaw hard. Sasha's hand came out and rested gently on his knee.

"You need to talk about these things, Tom. If you don't it's going to consume you."

"Who do you want me to talk to?" Tom snapped, the anger brewing hotter.

"Anyone. Even if it's just me," she whispered, her voice watery. Tom closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, his fingers curling tightly into his palm. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to admit he was…crazy. Had he lost his mind? Not yet, he thought. But if this continued unchecked…he was bound to lose it completely.

"Why are you so persistent that I talk about this shit," Tom ground out, his anger still flaring.

"Because I want you to get better!" Sasha shouted. "Your kids want you to get better!"

"I'm not the man you think I am."

"Stop saying that," Sasha said as she squeezed the hand on his knee. "You are who I think you are. You just need to realize that."

"Sasha, stop wasting your time on me. Go find someone that's worthy of you," Tom said as he turned his head away from her. He felt ashamed. He wanted to be alone. But that was a lie. Because he had felt the relief today with Sasha there in his home.

"I'm not wasting my time," Sasha whispered gently. "And I found someone that's worthy of me. He's the love of my life. I met him when I was too young the first time, and naturally things didn't work out. But then fate brought him back to me. Eighty percent of the human population decimated…but you and I are still here?"

"It's all bullshit. Shouldn't have tried to save what's left of us."

"Thomas," she pleaded. He turned his head and looked at her. Her eyes bored back at him, but they didn't make him uncomfortable. He locked onto them and let that love soak into his muddy brain. Before he knew it, he was talking.

"I don't know what to think anymore. I have so much guilt, sorrow, pain, anger…no…rage, inside me. Shaw made me…I stood on that ship and dressed down Rachel when we found out she had killed Sorensen. I had berated her, told her how immoral she was for choosing to be judge, jury, and executioner. And now…I…"

"Did the same thing. It broke your moral compass," she finished for him. He nodded but didn't say anything. Sasha studied his face. "You had a soft spot for Dr. Scott."

Tom's neck almost creaked as he slowly turned his head towards her. He found her eyes studying him again. Not judging, just…watching. Absorbing him in every way. He thought about her statement, because that's what it was. There was no question there. She knew him. He turned to look at the wall. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He nodded very slowly.

"I think I did. If she hadn't died in that hotel hallway…right down from me…I should have…"

"Tom, you couldn't have known what was going to happened."

"She came to me that night. All I had to say was come in…but I was still…I don't know. I Wasn't ready for that."

"You had just lost your wife. You had just completed a mission of great stress."

"I…did have feelings for her. She was strong, and beautiful. She had a thing for me."

"What woman doesn't," Sasha said teasingly. Tom looked at her and smirked. "Do you feel guilty that she died?"

"I did…do…I felt like I let her down. Tex…he blamed me too…and himself. He told me he forgave me."

"Tex?"

"He was in love with her. From the get-go after we picked him up in Gitmo. But she wasn't having it."

"Had her eyes on the captain of the ship?"

"I think so. That immune…he managed to get in. We weren't ready for security. She had been guarded…but Michener…he let them go," Tom's voice had cracked when he said Michener. Another death he felt responsible for. Sasha seemed to pick up on his body language.

"Why do you feel responsible for the president's death?"

"I pushed him. When we still thought it was a suicide, before Shaw confessed to killing him? It…she had reason to play it that way."

"He…was suicidal before?"

"He slit his wrists on the ship, shortly after we took him into custody."

"Geez, Tom, you never—"

"We didn't tell anyone. Slattery didn't…well…we didn't see eye to eye. I knew this country needed a leader to look to. Michener was who we had. Mike disagreed."

"You two butt heads a lot?"

"Yes. But what do you expect. I think of him as my brother. Brother's fight," Tom said softly. Sasha smiled at him. Her hand left his knee and intwined with his hand. Her soft, cool, fingers curling between his warmer, rougher ones.

"She forgives you. Can you forgive yourself?"

"How can I forgive what I did?"

"What do you mean? Because I don't think you mean Dr. Scott anymore."

"Sasha, I murdered someone."

"Tom, no one blames you for Shaw's death. No one sees it as…"

"No one else was on that plane, Sasha," Tom said as his chest tightened and heaved. "No one else saw that…I. Did. Not. Have. To. Shoot. Her."

"Tom?" Sasha said softly. He pulled his gaze from his lap and looked at her. She pursed her lips before she spoke again. "We can fix this," she whispered. He shook his head from side to side very slowly. "Yes. We can," she continued. He dropped his gaze from hers. She leaned in on him and her lips captured his. Short, sweet, loving. She pulled away from him.

"Are you staying the night?" Tom asked. Sasha smiled and her shoulders shrugged a little. She glanced at her watch.

"It's already one in the morning," she said softly. "I might as well."

Ashley Chandler

Ashley was back in Sam's room when Uncle Mike showed up for them. They had both packed up their belongings and had them ready to go. Sam was quiet, withdrawn, and sullen. Ashley sat on the floor with her back to his bed. Sam lay sprawled on top of the covers, flat on his back, hands behind his head.

"Sammy?" Ashley asked quietly. She heard him shift on the bed. His voice was close to her ear when he replied.

"What?" he asked. She tipped her head back and fought the burn of tears, the tight chest, the cramped body.

"No matter what happens? No matter where we end up? We stick together. Okay?"

"Okay, Ash," Sam breathed out. "Ash?" he asked. His voice sounded so much younger, like when he was little and was afraid of the dark.

"Yeah?" she asked as she twisted her body enough to look at him. His eyes were wet, with dark circles underneath. His skin was pale. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping much.

"How do I stop the nightmares?" he whispered, the tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I don't know, Sammy," she breathed out as tears slipped down her cheeks too. "What are they about? Maybe if we talk about them…"

"I…I keep seeing Grampa die. Or mom getting really sick and dying. I see the men come in the house and take me and you."

"I have all those too."

"And you know what I always feel at the end?"

"Scared?"

"Well, besides that. I feel like Dad never came to our rescue," he said as his voice shook.

"Oh, Sam, he…tried."

"Are you sure?"

"I know he would have been there if he could have been," Ashley said as she wiped at her face.

"Then why couldn't he be there?"

"Because unfortunately our dad had a bigger role in life then just being our dad," Ashley said as she thought about it. "Do you believe in fate?"

"What's fate?"

"Like, we're destined to be someone in this life. Like we're supposed to do something or be someone."

"I guess, maybe," Sam replied.

"I think that Dad was destined to be the man that saved the world."

"By sacrificing us?"

"I don't know. Think about how driven he was before the pandemic. I think it just ratcheted up during the pandemic. He lost his command structure and had to make life altering decisions for basically everyone on the planet."

"And he never came to save us."

"He did. On the plane."

"Too late," Sam sighed out.

"Sammy?"

"What?"

"Do you think you will ever forgive dad?"

"I…I don't know," he whispered as she heard him flop back on the bed. She was about to continue their conversation when she heard a knock on his door. Sam sat up on the bed. "Yeah?"

The door cracked open, and Uncle Mike stuck his head in the door. Ashley knew what this meant. She felt a moment of mixed emotion. She felt excited and happy that she was about to see Abbey and Hannah again. She felt sad and displaced as they were going to leave Ms. Garnett's house and move into a new one. She felt sadness that she wasn't with her dad…or her mom.

"Hey, you guys ready to move to the new house?" Uncle Mike asked quietly. Ashley nodded. He gave them a weak smile and nodded then left the room.

"Guess that's it," Sam huffed then hopped off the bed and grabbed his one bag. Ashley slowly stood up and grabbed her own bag. When she got to the living room Uncle Mike took her bag. She stopped and looked around. Uncle Mike tried to take Sammy's bag, but he yanked away and then trudged out the door without another word.

"This will be fun," Uncle Mike mumbled as he walked out after Sam. Ashley stood in place for a moment then turned and looked at Ms. Garnett.

"It'll be, okay, Sweetie," Ms. Garnett said softly.

"It doesn't feel that way," Ashley breathed out. Ms. Garnett walked around the couch and wrapped her arms around Ashley and pulled her into a tight hug. When she pulled back, Ms. Garnett left her hands on Ashley's shoulders. Their eyes locked.

"I know it feels like the world fell apart around you," Ms. Garnett said softly. "I know it feels like nothing will ever be the same again. And that may be true. It won't be the same, because too much has changed. But it can get better. If you ever need to talk, I'm right here, Sweetie, know that."

"You're the only person who seems to care," Ashley said as she pursed her lips and fought the tears. "I just want my dad to care again."

Ms. Garnett pulled her into another tight hug. "I know, Sweetie. Give your dad some time. Do you know what PTSD is?"

"Yeah, post-traumatic stress disorder."

"Do you know what it can do to a person?" she continued quietly. Ashley bit her lower lip and nodded slowly. She knew it could really mess a person up. "Your dad is struggling with PTSD. Mike called in someone that can help. Just give your dad time. But don't let your own demons rule."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you and Sam are hurting. You're grieving the loss of your entire family. It's not easy."

"You too," Ashley said as she recalled what Ms. Garnett had said.

"You're right, me too. So, know, I understand. Come talk to me anytime."

"I'm going to miss having you around, Ms. Garnett," Ashley breathed out.

"Oh, me too, Sweetie, me too. And call me Andrea."

"Okay," Ashley said with a watery voice. She hugged the older woman again and then the door was opening, and Uncle Mike was coming in. Andrea seemed to stiffen a little and stepped back avoiding eye contact with Uncle Mike. Ashley frowned but then turned.

"Ready, Kiddo?" Uncle Mike asked.

"Yeah, as ready as I can be I suppose," Ashley mumbled and then followed him out the door.

Mike Slattery

Mike and Abbey had spent a good deal of time at the old house. He had packed as many of the boxes into his truck as he could fit and left the rest in the living room. The drive back to the new house and quiet and stiff. Mike was thinking about everything Abbey had said she and Hannah had been through.

When they pulled up and got inside, Hannah had attached herself to Mike once again. She followed him around and wouldn't let him out of her sight. He figured it had to do with everything that had happened to them.

Once the boxes were unpacked and put in the right rooms, Mike helped the girls unpack the boxes brought for them. Hannah was excited about the clothes that Abbey had packed up for her, and she was grateful for Mike bringing back some of her stuff from the house. Once he was sure they were settled into the house he told them he was going to go pick up the Chandler kids and would be right back.

He was floating on cloud nine as he drove over to Andrea's. He was ecstatic to have his daughters back. Part of his heart had given up hope and steeled itself for the inevitable, and part of his heart had held out faith that they would be reunited. To actually be reunited was a wonderful feeling. He knew he had a lot of work ahead of him, working through their traumas on top of working through the Chandler kids' trauma.

When he pulled into Andrea's driveway he was smiling from ear to ear. He couldn't wait to share with her his joy. He climbed from his truck and trudged into the house. She was on the couch, and she stood and came towards him once he was inside. He immediately wrapped her into a hug and buried his face in her neck.

"I'm so glad you found them, Mike," she whispered. He pulled his face back and without thinking pressed his lips over hers. The kiss was slow, and gentle and seeking. Once it started, he wanted more and continued to work his lips over hers. His hand settled on her jaw, his thumb caressing her check. His brain fired and he realized what he was doing, and he abruptly broke off and pulled her into his chest, trying to avoid the awkwardness of his action.

"Thank you. Thank you for your help in finding them," he said gently as he held her against him. Sadness panged through him as he realized she was staying here while he was taking the kids to the new house. They pulled apart and she stood staring at him and for once he could not read what she was thinking. "Where are the kids?" he asked to break the tension and to avoid her asking him why he had just kissed her, because frankly…he wasn't ready to delve into those emotions right now.

"In Sam's room," she said with a nod. Her face remaining unreadable. Mike nodded and moved off in that direction. He popped his head in and asked if they were ready to go. They followed him out to the living room. As he slowed, he took Ashley's bag off her shoulder. He reached out to take Sam's too, but the boy jerked away from him and kept walking.

"This will be fun," he mumbled under his breath, and then followed the young Chandler out to his truck.

Sam had already tossed his bag into the truck and was seated in the back seat, arms crossed, head leaning against the window. Mike opened the other door and tossed Ashley's bag into the empty seat. He glanced back at the house and noticed Ashley hadn't come out after him. He glanced back at Sam.

"Want to talk about it?" Mike asked. Sam's shoulders hunched and dropped. Mike sighed. "I know this sucks, Sam. I know life sucks right now."

"Understatement of the year," he said, his teeth gritted together. Mike sighed again.

"I think it'll help if you talk to me about it."

"Which part? My mom dying? That was fun, let me tell you. We had to watch her get sick…and die. Or Grampa dying? Do you know what that was like?"

"I can imagine, Sam, and I'm so sorry you had to experience that."

"I watched…we saw…" he yelled but his voice faltered, and he started to cry. Mike slid into the seat next to him and wrapped his arms around the boy.

"I know, and there's nothing I can do or say that fixes that."

"My dad doesn't even care about us," he sobbed. Mike's heart broke. He pulled Sam's head into his chest and rested his chin on top of the boy's head.

"Oh, Sam," Mike said, his own tears falling. "I wish I could snap my fingers and make it all go back to how it was. I wish I could fix it all…including your dad."

"I want my mom," he whispered hoarsely, and Mike squeezed a little tighter.

"I know. Just know that I'm here. Anything you need, I'm here."

"I want my mom," Sam said again.

"I can't do that, Buddy, I wish I could."

"Why did it all have to happen?"

"I don't know. I'd give anything to change it all. I miss Lucas so much it hurts every day."

"I miss him too," Sam said as he sniffed and pulled away from Mike. Mike let him go and sat back into the seat. "And now the girls will all have each other, but I'm still…I don't…I'm alone."

"You got me," Mike said softly. Sam looked at him. "Maybe we can heal each other?"

"Like what?" Sam asked as he looked out the side window.

"I don't know. But we stick together. Going to be tough in a house full of girls."

"Uuuhhhhh," Sam groaned. Mike smiled. They were quiet for a long moment then Sam looked at him with sad serious eyes. Mike felt his heart break a little more. "Can I tell you something…and you won't get mad?"

"Anything, Sam," Mike said.

"Sometimes I wish I had died when Mom died. I got really sick…it could have happened."

"Oh, Sam," Mike said with a sigh. He pulled the boy into a hug again. Then let him go. "It's okay to feel that way, but if you feel like—"

"I'm not committing suicide, Uncle Mike," Sam breathed out and shrugged. He then looked away.

"Okay. Can we make a little deal?"

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Can you promise to come to me when you're feeling big emotions so we can work though them together and not get into any more fights?"

"I'll try," Sam replied. Mike reached out and squeezed the boy's shoulder before he slid out of the truck and took in a deep breath. He hoped that was the first step in the right direction in helping Sam get through this. He walked back into the house and saw Andrea stiffen and take a step back. She was also avoiding making eye contact with him and he was worried he had fucked up their relationship with that kiss. It had been purely on impulse that he had done it. He didn't regret it, because he knew he'd be reliving and thinking about it all night, wanting to do it again, but he would regret it if it meant he had driven Andrea away.

"Ready, Kiddo?" Uncle Mike asked.

"Yeah, as ready as I can be I suppose," Ashley mumbled and then followed him out the door.

He walked to his truck and made sure Ashley was in and buckled before he started the truck and backed out of the driveway. They were about two houses away when Ashley turned towards him and started to speak.

"Can I ask you something?" Ashley said in a shy quiet voice. Her hands were twisting in her shirt.

"Yeah," Mike replied.

"Did something happen between Andrea and you?" Mike swallowed and looked out the windshield of the truck. He wasn't sure how to answer that.

"What do you mean?"

"She was just acting off when you came in, and she's not moving—"

"She's not moving because she wants to stay in her own home. Has nothing to do with me, you two, or my girls. I just thought we needed more space with my girls coming home."

"Okay," Ashley replied and seemed to drop it. Mike frowned a little and felt a wave of panic cross over him.

He debated whether he should call Andrea when he got home. Maybe explain himself. But what could he say? He could simply tell her he was sorry if he made her feel uncomfortable, it was a spur of the moment impulse move. Even though that was half-truth…he couldn't lie that he didn't want to do that again. He sighed as he pulled into the new house.

"Are you okay, Uncle Mike?" Ashley asked softly. Mike glanced her way and gave her a small smile.

"Just a little overwhelmed," he said honestly. Ashley's eyes shined and she sniffed a little.

"I can understand that," she said as she reached over and patted his knee. She pulled her hand back and looked out the front window. "So, this is our new house?"

"For now. Until your dad gets better," Mike said. They heard a harumph from the back seat and Mike glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who was staring out the side window. He then grabbed his back, ripped open the door, and trudged towards the house.

"He's—"

"Okay," Mike said gently. "I understand it's hard for both of you. I know the anger isn't…I know why it's there and I understand it's going to take time. I just hope you both except the help you're offered," Mike said with a sad smile. Ashley nodded at him and then got out of the truck. Mike reached over the seat and grabbed her bag then climbed out and hurried into the house after them.

Kat Nolan

Kat Nolan laid in bed thinking about what she wanted in her life. She wanted to get away. She wanted to make a difference. She wanted…to serve. That was the bottom line. Her dad had been in the Army. But that was kind gone right now. The Navy was the biggest branch up and running. She knew enough Navy people to get a hand up. She would talk to someone in the morning. She sighed. She needed to figure out finishing school as early as possible.

She needed to figure out if she could join the Navy anytime soon. She knew before it was eighteen and graduated from high school, but the world had changed so dramatically in the last year and a half she figured the requirements to get in were significantly lowered.

She knew she could get through basic; she knew she could get through anything they threw at her. Her father had prepared her well enough, teaching her to defend herself, use weapons, be alert, know your surroundings. She just didn't know what avenues were available once she got in.

Her eyes grew heavy as her brain contemplated her next steps in life. Happy to be out of the shelter she snuggled deeper into the blankets around her. Her brain started to shut down. Cooper still wasn't back, and she wondered if she would even see the woman in the morning. Not that it mattered. She was capable. She was happy that Cooper recognized that and felt comfortable leaving Kat here alone. Her eyes drifted shut and her brain sunk into the blackness of sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED…