Standing at the water's edge with the waves lapping at her bare toes, Casey savors the chill. The rush of awareness that keeps her upright. Her feet are starting to go numb, but she welcomes it as a distraction from the roiling in her gut.

Everything had been going so smoothly. She had been helping her mother clean up behind the bar, and then someone sat nearby, practically reeking of cheap cologne, cigarettes, and spilled beer. That had been the trigger to set the delicate equilibrium the club soda had created in her stomach on its edge, and Casey barely made it to the bathroom before everything she had consumed in the last few hours made a reappearance.

She had stayed in the bathroom until she was sure nothing else would come up. Until she had rinsed her mouth out, and swiped one of the complimentary mints nestled in a basket on the sink to freshen her breath.

For once, she is remarkably grateful for the fact that her father had been tossed from the bar—quite literally—before everything fell apart. She had only just managed to evade her mother's questions, but his would have been unavoidable.

Casey can recall joking with both her father, and her godfather, that if the Navy ever threw either of them out, they could make a hell of a career as inner city detectives. Their penchant for wringing the truth out of someone was practically legendary, or at least it was in her eyes.

Either one of them could have had her blurting all her secrets tonight in mere seconds, and Casey frowns as she realizes that should probably worry her more than it really does. But they aren't the ones whose reaction can potentially break her. Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things.

No, the one who can shatter her into pieces with just a look is still inside the bar, playing a piano, and Casey is somehow too much of a coward to bring herself to venture indoors to join him.

Instinctively, she knows remaining outside is eventually going to draw attention. Arouse suspicion. She will only be able to pretend she simply needed air for so long. But even with those thoughts weighing against the back of her mind, Casey cannot seem to persuade herself to move.

It is almost like the numbness in her feet is gluing her to the spot. Like the water is a sort of adhesive keeping her rooted in place. Casey wishes she could actually manage to construct that sensation into a believable excuse for her absence, but she knows that it will never work.

Casey doesn't even realize the music wafting through the open window of the bar has come to a stop, because she is far too busy focusing on the waves. The peace of it all, when everything about her life has turned to chaos. Her eyes squeeze shut almost without her conscious awareness, and she takes a few steadying breaths…

Whatever had given her the resolve to tell Bradley everything tonight is quickly wavering. It is quickly being replaced by another piece of news that she hadn't seen coming. That he had a right to know.

She hadn't expected to find her father at the bar. To learn he was in charge of a group Bradley just so happened to be a part of.

Weighing the two options available to her and making a choice seems impossible. But Casey knows she won't have the time to make the decision for much longer.

She can tell Bradley about the baby. Their baby. Or, she can tell him about her father. Ensure that he isn't blindsided tomorrow. That he has some means of preparing for a reunion with a man he'd been carefully avoiding for a while.

A sudden swell of noise from inside reaches her, and Casey folds her arms across her chest, goosebumps prickling against her skin as she tries to persuade her rigid shoulders to relax. Suddenly she is all too aware of the cold. Of how it seems to be seeping into her bones, freezing her from the inside, out.

Casey turns to begin the hunt for her shoes, having cast them off haphazardly not long after leaving the bar, but stalls in her tracks as soon as she realizes the person who just left the bar has already hooked the shoes on his fingers.

"Looking for something?"

"Um—yeah. I—thanks."

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing."

"Haven't you heard? I like the cold now," Casey quips, aware of how Bradley's expression turns skeptical as soon as a shiver rolls through her frame. She could kick herself, because the response is so far out of left field that it never stood a chance of passing muster, even if Bradley didn't know her better than she knew herself.

And he did. He did know her. Just like she knew him.

Maybe that is why his response is almost like dragging the serrated edge of a knife across her heart.

"You hate the cold."

"People can change."

"Right."

"They can."

"I believe you."

Unsure of what else to say or do, Casey opts to reach for her shoes, feeling a pull of warmth in her abdomen as their fingers brush together, while an answering flare of heat spreads across her cheeks as well. And she is more than a little grateful for the relative darkness of their surroundings, hoping that it will conceal her flush until it disappears altogether.

If the darkness doesn't hide it, though, Casey is always willing to opt for more obvious distractions, and she ignores how her breath seems to catch in her throat as she tilts her head back to get a better look at her companion before changing the subject entirely.

"Walk with me?"

"Case, you've got goosebumps."

"Well, unless you chuck me in the water, I can't get any colder."

"I would never."

"You did. That one time—"

"I was trying to sober you up," Bradley explains for what has to be the umpteenth time, unable to resist the laugh that breaks free over the memory, and finding that he is more than a little relieved to note Casey is grinning as well, "I never thought you'd conveniently forget how to swim."

"I was trying to prove a point."

"By nearly drowning?"

"I was drunk. Not in my right mind. It seemed like a good idea at the time," Casey shrugs, keeping her shoes hooked on her fingertips, while her shoulder bumps against Bradley's before she is even aware she is doing it, "And for the record, you were the one who provided the tequila."

"So now it's my fault that you were too impressionable?"

"I was sixteen. Wasn't I supposed to be?"

Bradley would love to pretend he doesn't remember the day they are talking about as clearly as if it was yesterday, but he does. He remembers every last minute. The desperation in Casey's voice when she called him. The barely restrained tears when he picked her up from her stepfather's, and they went to the beach. She had snagged the tequila he had stowed in the back of his truck before he could even attempt to say it wasn't his.

She hadn't wanted to talk about anything, and so he had elected to simply sit with her on the sand while they shared the bottle between them. While the tequila created a pretty flush on her cheeks and caused her eyes to sparkle whenever she looked his way.

That had been the first time he had thought about kissing her, but an ill-timed call from his mother quickly diverted him. Penny had apparently called her, frantic because her oldest daughter had disappeared.

He had been trying to persuade a suddenly noodle-limbed Casey to stand so he could take her back to the truck and get her home when he realized he couldn't exactly return her to her mother drunk as a skunk. But Casey hadn't wanted any part of his plan to get her a coffee or two. She had even plunked herself back down in the sand with arms folded across her chest, and a bleary sort of pout on her lips

It would have been adorable if he hadn't been so panicked about saving his own skin from the combined wrath of his own mother, and Penny Benjamin over steering Casey in the wrong direction, and that had been when the idea of tossing her in the chilly water had come to mind.

"You know, even if you were supposed to be, it doesn't change the fact that I was fairly certain Iceman was gonna kill me when he found us."

"Oh he probably was going to kill you. At least until he helped you pull me out of the water, and—"

"And you threw up on his shoes."

A snort escapes before Casey can stop it, her shoulders shaking with silent amusement as she starts to walk off along the shoreline, with Bradley at her side. And for a moment, she can almost pretend this is normal. He's just on leave, and they're spending all the time they can together before he has to return to active duty. It even feels somewhat familiar. The warmth of his taller frame at her side—the sound of waves crashing against the shore, and the amusement over shared memories—putting her at ease whether she truly deserves it or not.

But everything is different. How could it not be?

No matter what she tells Bradley tonight, the good-natured banter will likely only continue for so long. And true to form, Casey is more than a little determined to ensure it lasts for another moment or two at least.

"I don't think he ever really forgave me for that."

"Can't blame him. They were nice shoes."

"I did try to find him another pair."

"Yeah. And then realized you'd have to sell both kidneys to afford them," Bradley adds, recalling Casey's expression after convincing him to go with her to the store Jo mentioned the shoes had originated from, the price tag on the things overwhelming to say the least, "I kinda thought you were gonna keel over on me in shock."

"I think I almost did."

Silence falls between them again, the cool breeze that wafts around them prompting Casey to shift just a bit closer to Bradley's side. The move is instinctive, and her hand brushes his own as a result, small shockwaves zinging along her skin as she tries to regain some distance.

Before she can fully succeed, though, Bradley's fingers are threading through hers, the warmth of his hand momentarily stealing her breath from her lungs while his hand delivers a gentle squeeze to her own.

"You okay?"

"I—yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem—off. That's all."

"Off," Casey repeats, her brow furrowing in consternation even though she knows full well that the assessment is not all that far off the mark, "I'm not off, I just—"

"Did something happen?"

"What? No, what—what could've happened?"

"As the person who didn't reply to a single text or call over the last few weeks, I was kind of hoping you might tell me."

Bradley could have predicted the way Casey's hand would slip from his in response to the statement, and a part of him wonders if maybe he should have been a bit less blunt. He didn't want to hurt her. To make her feel guilty, or get her thinking he was somehow blaming her for something when that could not have been farther from the truth. But he can't deny the truth of what it felt like to hear nothing for weeks on end. To remember how they spent their last moments together and wonder what the hell had gone wrong.

For him, those moments had been what he had wanted all along. And he hadn't pressed Casey to talk about it in the aftermath, assuming she had wanted the same thing. But maybe that hadn't been the case, after all.

Each day without a word from her had been unbearable. Watching for all of those years as Casey slid in and out of relationships with other guys had been unbearable. Pretending he wanted anything at all to do with the women he associated with prior to finally having Casey Benjamin in his bed had been unbearable.

But maybe, to her, their time during his last period of leave had been a mistake. Maybe that was why she hadn't been able to come up with a single thing to say after the fact.

Maybe Casey wanted to forget about everything that had happened between them. Pretend as though it had never even happened at all. And as much as Bradley hates the idea of losing her, he is also not entirely sure he can take everything going on as though nothing had changed at all.

"Case—"

"Nothing happened. I mean—it's not—"

"It's not you, it's me?"

"No," Casey denies, coming to a stop while her toes curl into the sand, an unconscious gesture to keep her rooted in some way when it feels like she is about to fray apart at the seams. In a way, it would almost be easier to just blurt the truth. Tell him about the baby. Rip off the band-aid. But looking at Bradley now—recognizing the flare of hurt and disbelief in his expression before he sweeps it away—she cannot get the words out into the open.

She has always talked a good game. Acted like she has everything under control. Like nothing can scare her away. But standing on the beach now, with the absence of the warmth of Bradley's palm against her own, Casey is seemingly only capable of feeling one thing.

Fear.

Fear over how Bradley will react. Fear over whether or not things between them will ever be the same. Uncertainty over if she even wants them to be the same…

Everything is mingling in her mind until she can barely think straight, but she knows she owes the man standing before her an answer. She owes him more than that, if she is being honest.

"There's—there's something you should know."

"About?"

"My dad."

Confusion makes its way into Bradley's expression, because he certainly never saw mention of Pete Mitchell coming. At least not in the context of a reason why Casey had been so distant.

From the very beginning of the rift that had formed between him, and his father's friend, Casey had been adamant about remaining neutral. About not bringing Pete up at all, trying to respect Bradley's feelings on the subject. Trying to keep that barrier locked tight. And he knew how difficult that must have been for her, especially given how she had always seemed to think her dad walked on water.

For Casey to be breaking that unspoken promise to refrain from mentioning her father now, it meant something must have happened. Something big.

God, if she had lost him and he had been too wrapped up in his own anger to see it, Bradley would never forgive himself…

"He's fine. It's not—it's not that."

"Jesus, Case—"

"I'm sorry, I never meant to make you think—"

"What the hell is going on?" Bradley asks, risking a step closer to where Casey stands, his hands reaching on instinct for her arms to keep her from pulling away, the shock he receives when his palms graze against chilled skin not exactly reassuring him that something is not terribly wrong. He can feel the tiny shock waves running just beneath the surface of her skin. And he is no stranger to going through life worried about losing a parent, having lost both of his own.

"Come on, Casey. Talk to me."

"He's back."

"What?"

"He's been—called back," Casey informs, trying to ignore the way her voice trembles over the words as best she can, while also desperately trying to cling to the strength to continue looking Bradley in the eye, "I just found out today, but—"

"He's here for the mission."

Casey nods, her expression suddenly every bit as nervous as the tingle of apprehension that zings down Bradley's spine. It's obvious she knows that this changes everything. That she is trying to give him as much headway as she can before he has to face a man he hasn't really seen or dealt with in years.

Bradley appreciates that far more than he thinks he can ever put into words, but something in Casey's features—in the tightening around her eyes, and the thin set of her lips—tells him there is something else she is trying to keep at bay as well.

"I just—I thought you deserved to know."

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"I—no."

"Case—"

"Isn't this enough?"

Casey holds her breath while waiting for Bradley's answering nod, and allows herself to feel some small modicum of relief when he finally does. It would be foolish to pretend that a part of her doesn't hate keeping the rest of the truth from him. She pretends that she doesn't know that Bradley learning about her secrecy may end up doing more harm than good. But she also knows he is going to be a part of something bigger than either one of them, alone. That he needs to focus entirely on the task at hand.

One distraction—that presented by her father—is already more than enough. And she can deal with the other part of their potential predicament on her own. She can do that, for just a little while longer.

She can handle the reality of the baby on her own, while Bradley adjusts to being in the same zip code as her father again, because she knows full well that he's going to need a sounding board sooner, rather than later.

And Casey will be damned if she takes that away from him now, just to make sure she does not feel so alone.

"Casey? Time to go, hon."

The brunette jumps as she recognizes the voice calling to her from a few feet away, her feet carrying her back a couple steps while whatever emotion had been in Bradley's expression is quickly schooled away. Neither of them were aware of exactly how long they had been outside of the bar until that moment, and Casey struggles to conceal the sudden surge of regret she feels at the idea of that time being cut short.

She missed him. She missed him more than words could ever say. But if she wants to continue avoiding suspicion, not only from Bradley, but from her mother as well, Casey knows she needs to keep up appearances now more than ever.

"I'll—I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Bradley nods, more than a little reluctant to let Casey go, though he does what he can to keep that reluctance from making itself known in his expression, "You gonna be at the bar?"

"Are you?"

"After what you just told me? I think I'm gonna need to be."

For a moment, Bradley wonders if he's said the wrong thing, the way Casey seems to tense causing another sliver of guilt to worm its way through his chest. But before he can make any attempt to correct it, she shakes herself, managing a smile before leaning up to wrap her arms around him in a hug while she murmurs a familiar phrase against the shell of his ear.

"Don't do anything too crazy tomorrow, yeah?"

"How can I? You're taking all the crazy with you."

Snorting, Casey gives Bradley a retaliatory shove, and tries to ignore how his almost immediate laugh sends a spark of warmth hurtling straight for her gut. The words are familiar. A part of their habitual parting, and she cannot help but feel some sort of relief over how that part of their relationship does not appear to have changed.

She begins the trek back towards the bar, aware of how Bradley seems to be hanging behind, and Casey tries to reassure herself that she is doing the right thing…

If only that weren't easier said than done.

…

When Casey wakes and cracks one eye open the following morning, trying to brace herself for the inevitable nausea that will most likely resurface, she very nearly jumps out of her skin. Another figure is sitting by her bed, eyeing her, and after Casey recovers enough to work past the rapid pounding of her heart against her ribs, she pushes herself upright, one hand shoving through sleep-tousled hair before she manages to speak.

"Jesus, Amelia, what the hell—"

"Your phone's been going off every two minutes or so for almost twenty. Gonna answer?"

"It's not going—"

The words are cut off by a familiar text tone, and Casey frowns as she glances at the phone vibrating on her bedside table. It takes a moment for comprehension to set in, and she scrambles to reach for the phone before Amelia can do so, herself.

"Told ya."

"Shush, you."

Amelia laughs at the predictable response, and swats at Casey's legs where they rest beneath the blankets to persuade the older girl to slide over so that she can sit beside her in the bed while she looks at her phone…

"That your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Uh-huh. So who is it that is so determined to get in touch with you this morning?"

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Casey inquires, slanting a look at the younger girl ensconced at her side on the bed, while the corners of her mouth twitch into a grin at the eyeroll she receives in response.

"I'm free first period."

"Right. I forgot you were a nerd and already had most of the credits you needed to graduate."

"You almost sound jealous," Amelia says, nudging Casey in the side, and giggling as the act earns her a swat on the thigh as a result, "So. If it's not the boyfriend—"

"It can't be the boyfriend if the boyfriend does not exist."

"Then who is it?"

"My dad."

"Mav's back?"

"Mom didn't tell you?"

Amelia shakes her head, and Casey raises a brow, but does not immediately comment, her attention drifting back to the screen of her phone, in the hopes that she can swipe the other notifications that are not from her father away before they attract any notice. A few of them are from Bradley, but the bulk are from a number she didn't recognize until she glanced at the name attached to one of the texts.

Evie had a new phone, apparently. Which wouldn't have alarmed Casey all that much, but for the fact that she knew her friend had sworn to keep the same dated device she had finally learned how to use until it couldn't be brought back from the dead.

"What? Casey, what is it?"

"Nothing," The older girl replies, almost immediately aware of how Amelia is not likely to buy the assertion, and releasing a sigh as she forces thoughts of her friend and what may or may not be going on with her to the back of her mind, at least for the time-being, "It's nothing. Just Dad wanting to grab dinner later tonight."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Sure."

"Then why do you look like you're almost scared?"

"I'm not."

"You sure about that?"

"Are you sure you should be interrogating the girl who still keeps all of your secrets?"

"Point taken," Amelia laughs, holding up both hands in a gesture of obvious surrender, and grinning as Casey finishes whatever reply she had been typing out on her phone, and tosses the object aside in favor of starting to shove her toward the edge of the bed, "Hey!"

"Make me breakfast and I'll take you to school after. I'm starving."

"What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

Casey watches as Amelia sends her an almost alarmingly gleeful grin before hurrying out of the bedroom and into the hallway beyond, managing a laugh before her attention drifts back to her phone. Her eyebrows furrow as she thinks back to Evie. As she struggles against the nagging sensation that something is wrong.

She resolves to make the time to try and call the number her friend had used to contact her later on, after getting Amelia to school. Hopes that Evie simply lost her old phone, and had to get a new one, rather than any other, more nefarious reason.

Casey turns her attention to casting around for her supplies to take a quick shower before breakfast, smiling faintly at the responding text from her dad confirming their dinner later that night. And she hopes she can manage that without somehow cluing him in to what rests beneath the surface. To the real reason why she came home.

He didn't need to know. Not now. And Casey ignores the guilt coiling around her heart at the idea of keeping yet another secret from yet another important man in her life…

Just another thing that will be easier said than done.

…

Hello, angels! And welcome to another new chapter, and some solid (I hope) interaction time between Bradley and Casey! I know she didn't tell him what she really wanted to this time around, but I hope her reasoning for that makes sense. She's not going to be able to keep that particular secret forever, but she's also trying to take care of her friend, regardless of her own need, so I hope all of that came out like I wanted it to ;).

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! And special thanks to Boris Yeltsin, Catherine . alice, and Luvreading67 for leaving such kind feedback the last time around! I appreciate you all so very much and I hope you continue to enjoy where the story goes from here!

Until next time, darlings…

MOMM