an. I'm still around and crawling through writing updates. I really appreciate everyone who's taken the moment to comment despite my absence. The final battle is almost upon us. Reminder since it's been a while: Vulture team is going to infiltrate Tavo's compound during a black operation (no show invasion I'm afraid) to stop him from killing Martinez before he has the Generals under control. Tom is pitting Martinez and Montano against each other by feeding skewed intel to the Doctor. The Farragut is prowling close by, and they are now in enemy waters without the O'Connor who was meant to join the fleet the following month after completing repairs.
Review response for Luna:
Those Danny death scenes make me real sad, not going to lie. Danny… really screwed up big time with Kara. Like hugely. I'm not sure how he works his way out of it, but there is development within the chapter that I hope makes some sense. Nina is a perfect pain in the ass, lol! She got on the James, but that doesn't mean she's getting what she wants or intended – basically they're stonewalling her. I too will miss the Danny/Sasha war besties dynamic, but I think at this point they're all too screwed up not to take a real break in order to focus on fixing their home lives first. It's bittersweet. Non one can go like this forever, and one of the parts of the show that left me wanting more in the end, was how none of the characters seemed to have any meaningful changes in Season 5, and that we weren't given any epilogue that suggested what became of their lives after war. Also, I adore that you love those little moments where Tom is willing to do unpopular things if he thinks it will help Sasha. I mean… it's fanfic. We're here for fluffy swoon worthy things, not him being an asshole like he was on the show. :D
T-Minus 12 Hours—USS Nathan James
Personally, Sasha would rather be curled in a bunk with Tom stealing every precious second until Brawler dropped them into the ocean. Instead, the team was running a compound breach simulation on the aft deck.
"Barco—you're dead!" she yelled over the ripping wind and water slapping the hull. Frustration skimmed the group. Pablo lost his cool and muttered an expletive, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Danny's jaw bulge.
"Run it again!"
The group reset, and though her back was turned, Sasha still sensed Tom's presence on the upper level where he watched.
His hands were loose around the familiar sunbaked railing, betraying the tumult of his mind. Those thoughts were loud enough that Captain Green's appearance went unnoticed until she stood directly in his field of vision. Tom glanced, and she nodded before focusing attention upon Vulture Team. In silence, they watched; another simulation proven flawed when Wolf was caught in a blind spot and Danny, this time, announced his death and called for a reset.
Danny.
Tom couldn't recall the last time he'd slipped and referred to him as anything other than Green.
More breach simulations ran and ultimately failed until the terse but guarded look upon Captain Green's face became one of loosely veiled concern. "How long have they been going?" she quietly asked.
"Couple hours," he responded, equally sedate.
It was weighing heavy again. Guilt. Regret. Indecision over how to proceed when the rank and file stood in conflict with the respect he felt owed toward Captain Green—no, Kara—and then he recalled the evening following Columbia's attack, while Vulture Team's vitality lay unknown, and Kara had sought his counsel.
"You should know… it wasn't a lack of trust." Tom wasn't observing her, but in peripheral he registered Kara's body language shift. "If it had been anyone but Sasha—" he stopped watching the drills to face her "—I would have read you in the moment I found out about Panama."
For a second, Kara remained conspicuously blank, and Tom found himself in the unfamiliar position of being unable to predict her response. A small twist to her lip certainly didn't rank on the list, however.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
He nodded when she glanced.
"I always wondered why you never questioned my commitment to the mission or the Navy after you caught us." She paused. "Or my ability to make objective decisions going forward?" Her brow subtly lifted. "It didn't make sense until Sasha told me how you met."
Though Tom wasn't hiding his previous choice to engage in 'behavior unbecoming of an officer', Kara's statement forced him to realize that beyond Mike and the kids, no one knew.
"It's all fun and games until it isn't," Tom answered quietly. "You both made a reckless decision before we were playing with all the facts. I'd like to think I'm a good enough judge of character to assume that had Dr. Scott's mission been clear from the onset, neither of you would have engaged in fraternization."
"Absolutely," Kara affirmed.
They held eye contact for a few moments. "Green was coming off thirty-six-months active—you'd been passed over for a promotion by your former Commander despite being the more qualified candidate—two bored sailors stuck at EMCON in the middle of the Arctic well beyond any of the contested hot zones…" Tom's lip quirked upward. "I was more surprised that I caught one."
Kara was trying to hide her amusement. "Not for lack of trying. Benz had a thing for Maya, but she had a boyfriend."
Tom hummed, and there followed a natural lull while Kara appeared to think. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, sir… Danny is the one who took a vow. From where I'm standing, your priorities were exactly where they should have been—unfortunately, he chose differently. Whether or not you'd told me, that would still be true."
It was hard to refute her logic, and his subsequent silence spoke volumes.
The stoicism hardening her features eased. "Though if we're still speaking freely… I'll play Devil's advocate…"
Tom's head canted left, a silent invitation to continue.
"What if she hadn't come clean?"
A wry smirk appeared, and he leaned an elbow on the railing, his body now facing Kara. "Twenty years ago? Or now?" Tom exhaled, allowing the mirth to vanish beneath sincerity. "Look, Sasha is… different." He paused. "You read the article?"
"Actually, no… but I overheard some details."
"Well, it's not all accurate, but enough of it is." He broke off, stalled by discomfort over choosing to be open, before remembering that isolating himself from people in a unique position to understand contributed to his issues. "The point is, it took her thirty years to acknowledge it… and if she hadn't seen Rios' daughter at the funeral, that article would be the only reason I know. Even after I stayed through her worst."
Kara squinted.
"Sure, that used to drive me insane… and when it didn't work the first time, I picked someone who was the complete opposite." Again, he paused. "But it was never about needing to know what she was hiding. I just wanted to understand why—" he shrugged "—once I did, it got easy to stop taking the choices she makes out of fear personally." He studied her expression. "Figure out his why. If you still feel the same about him after that, then there's enough left to fix it."
The sound of a hatch opening behind them tabled the conversation; the appearance of Doctor Montano and guard, topside for his twice daily allowance of deck time, ended their moment of connection. Amending their posture was an automatic response, and as Tom held Montano's inscrutably knowing gaze, Captain Green excused herself.
"I'll be on the bridge."
Tom failed to react. Before the plague, he'd held a deep respect for Doctor Montano—studied his philosophies and made into his own those beliefs. But it had been a long time since naivete had filled him with idealistic optimism. He'd already killed one man he'd revered as a leader; what was another when they were already damned?
The Doctor approached, his guard lingering in tow. "Admiral Chandler."
"Doctor," he replied.
Montano stopped in the space that Captain Green had just vacated and watched Vulture Team. "It would seem that you are planning an operation to intercept Hector before he can assume control from Gustavo."
The statement was leading and yet not a question. Tom failed to respond, which only seemed to amuse the strategist more.
"I should have known that his lust for power would prove too great," Montano continued.
"Well, you're the one who insisted on setting him free," he drawled arrogantly.
Montano glanced and then hunched to lean both elbows on the railing. "He was the only tool I had at my disposal to gather the remaining Generals. I confessed my deflection to Salazar upon my capture."
"Or so you say."
In response, Montano scrutinized him. "I understand why you are reluctant to trust me, Admiral—but I have been very forthcoming with information, and I was honest in explaining my intentions. I only wanted prosperity for a people who have been marginalized for too long. You and I are really not so dissimilar." Tom hollowed his cheeks in silent disagreement, but Montano continued, "The only difference is that your military prefers a clandestine approach to invading other countries…"
Tom established eye contact.
"A great man doesn't seek to lead, Admiral. He is called to it, and he answers." The Doctor paused. "We are two opposing sides of the same coin."
Tom's gaze traveled, the sound of yet another breach simulation failed drifting up from the lower deck, and he caught Sasha's eyes. The set of her jaw told him she'd reached the same conclusion he had twenty minutes ago.
Without Miller, they'd come up short—they needed an extra man.
"Well, if that's true—" he turned to face Montano "—then you know there's only one way that this can end."
The strategist held his gaze.
"Indeed, Admiral."
"I thought about benching you from the op."
Danny paused mid-reach in the Arms locker but didn't turn. Sighing, Sasha leaned against the metal cage and waited. He finished hanging his M4 and returned a few blank magazines to the appropriate storage bins before glancing over his shoulder.
"But?"
Despite the tension between them since landing in Cuba, Sasha still grinned. "But then I remembered there's no one I trust more to execute out there when we're stacked against the odds like this." She hesitated. "Regardless of whatever distractions we both have."
Finally, he turned, considering her in silence for a time. "Right back at ya, Coop."
Pushing away from the crated metal, Sasha unfolded her arms and stepped closer, all pretense gone. "Are we okay?"
Danny softened and did something he rarely did; embraced her. "Yeah. We're good."
T-Minus 9 Hours—USS Nathan James
Why did this feel so different? Maybe because the last three times they'd been separated on simultaneous missions, the outcomes had involved various levels of catastrophe. Shaw. Greece. Panama. Cuba. Nothing good came of heeding superstitions, but an overwhelming part of Sasha simply couldn't refute that statistically, the luck that had left both she and Tom alive would run out.
She was jittery; nerves enough to make her nauseous. Once the mission commenced, focus would see her through, but until then, she was ravaged by the thought that these could be the last hours they had… and half of them would be sacrificed to sleep and the other to duty.
Distracted, she twirled the pen between her fingers and adjusted her headset, still listening to the comms hidden within Tavo's compound for any last-minute intel that might offer them an advantage. It was all the distraction she had from dwelling on what she was missing in CIC until Pablo could relieve her.
"Once the jamming is set, Vulture Team will have fifteen minutes to reach the jump point before The Farragut is able to intercept the sequence," Kara said, forcing herself not to make eye contact with Danny where he sat perched against a console.
"Simultaneously, Captain Slattery will launch an air wing on The Farragut's last known position—that will give our pilots a fighting chance to get within striking distance before she's able to produce countermeasures, but they'll still be short," Admiral Chandler continued.
"The James will advance on The Farragut's bearing and wait for them to fire up weapons radar." She paused and looked first to Nishioka, then Wright, and finally Meylan before continuing. "Once that happens—and they have our position—this is a dogfight."
Admiral Chandler stepped forward. "Our airwing will buy us enough time—and god willing—enough distraction to launch our sub-surface and airborne missiles and get a direct hit before they turn off their radar and ghost us again. Captain Slattery will man our six and protect us from what's left of their fleet, but make no mistake—we are up against an enemy using one of our own, with weapons systems that surpass our capabilities." He paused. "Creativity—and timing—will win the day."
T-Minus 30 Minutes—USS Nathan James
Nina Garside was more than frustrated over her lack of access. She'd been barred from going topside for the majority of the afternoon, barred from entering hangar bay one, and now she was observing the sixth instance of senior leadership and the joint command ground forces entering a closed-door briefing within the Combat Information Center and yet no would acknowledge that something was about to go down.
Earlier, she'd witnessed an uncharacteristic display of affection between the Admiral and his wife on her way to the officer's crew lounge. Granted, they believed they were alone, but in all of her months spent both at Southern Command, on base, and the Nathan James to date, she'd never seen them interact un-professionally while on duty. And there was something atypical going on with the structure of command. Admiral Joseph Meylan was now Captain Green's acting XO, not Commander Burk, and it appeared that Commander Burk was joining the joint operations team on whatever mission was forthcoming. He was wearing all blacks the last time she'd seen him traversing the p-ways.
The door to Captain Green's cabin opened, and Nina stayed back, out of view of the Captain. The air of uncertainty surrounding her was not something Nina Garside had witnessed before…
Danny drove his shoulder into Burk, sending the XO off balance, whirling around with a deep scowl before recognizing who'd roughhoused him. "Still got your sea legs, Rook? Or has all that pencil pushing made you soft?"
Burk shrugged him off. "Boy, you better watch your dang mouth—this pencil pusher's been out here drilling these Rooks for the better part of two months while your ass been sittin' on a couch."
Kara caught the tail end of their exchange after stepping into the hanger bay, and the mood shifted when Danny noticed her. Burk was quick to disengage, mumbling something about missing ammo, before busying himself at a different ready table.
Most of the hours she should have spent sleeping were instead restlessly battling whether she could, in fact, let Danny go on this mission without resolution. To risk the chance that one of them, or both of them, could perish and their last conversation remain unfinished.
Now stood opposite him, the amount of cautious hope she saw swimming in the green of Danny's eyes almost overwhelmed her. That was just it. She loved him to death… after everything he'd done; she still loved him. Still wished that they could re-write the past or somehow find a way to start a fresh… but almost as equally, she couldn't stand the thought of being left in the cold once again.
"You guys figured out how to breach without being compromised?" She hated that her vocal cords sounded so strained. So too the way he tried to mask his disappointment.
"Yeah—" his head was nodding "—yeah, we just needed an extra man."
"Good."
God, this was not what she wanted to say.
For several awkward moments, she alternated between holding lingering eye contact and noticing the people surrounding them. Inevitably, she landed upon the Admiral. His back was turned, but Sasha was smiling, and again she found herself replaying their conversation… she didn't want to have to wait decades for Danny to let her in. She'd already been waiting for five years, and yet she could still see the hope that maybe this time could be different. Maybe, just maybe, he could change.
She faced Danny once more, throwing caution to the wind. "I'm not done."
Every function within him stilled.
"I want us to finish that conversation…" she paused, "…and I want you to do exactly what you said you would do."
There was moisture welling within his eyes.
"So you make damn sure that you take care of yourself out there and make it back." Her lips were trembling, the effort required to stop herself from touching him in plain view of her crew significant. His jaw was clenched, the hands upon his M4, too. "Because we are not done. And you have a lot of work to do."
"Yes, ma'am," he choked out.
"You know I was thinking—" Sasha began, after sliding the last extra magazine into her vest and verifying the functionality of her oxygen tank one last time "—after this is said and done, we should go on a vacation. A long one."
Tom didn't respond verbally, but his features were warm, and he was listening.
"You, me, the kids… a sailboat."
He grinned.
"I'll even let you be the Captain."
"Sounds perfect."
Perfect.
Yes. Almost. She could see it. Taste it, and yet she was about to jump into the middle of the ocean and after that happened, they'd be radio silent and fighting for their lives. Vulture wouldn't learn the outcome of Nathan James' battle for hours… they could be dead by the time Vulture reached that beach, and she wouldn't know it.
"Alert sixty! Bird is on deck, wheels up in ten!"
She'd been coping admirably, but when she registered that Danny had discretely taken Kara's hand under the guise of checking equipment—the fact that the stakes were high enough for Kara to be compelled to act despite how betrayed she felt—obliterated the barriers she was helplessly trying to maintain. Her vision began swimming, her chin rooted down and nostrils precariously wobbling.
"Please don't cry, Sash," Tom whispered, shifting as close as he could stand without crossing the line. "We're going to be okay—I didn't come this far not to win, and Rabello doesn't know how to fight dirty." He waited until she could make eye contact again. "I do."
Briefly, she closed her eyes. "When that plane went down in Cuba and I thought you were dead, I had never been more terrified in my life—" it almost looked like he couldn't bear to hear the rest of it, but she continued, regardless "—and all I could think about, was whether you really know what you mean to me, because I always find a way to do the opposite of what I should."
After appearing to debate whether to do so and verifying that they weren't attracting too much undue attention, Tom caved, reached over, and cupped her cheek. "I know." He searched her features. "And I promise you that we are both going home to find that sailboat."
The night was temperate. The ocean beneath them black and still. In the cockpit of the Apache Brawler had acquired, the only light source was the radiant green glow of their night vision goggles. The air was salt. The weight of their dive gear, in addition to her rifle and extra ammunition like an anchor that would try to drag to the ocean's floor once her feet breached the surface.
The dark used to be one of her greatest fears.
It wasn't until now that Sasha perceived she'd overcome it.
The thought of losing Tom terrified her more.