Disclaimer: The Last Ship and any character associated with it are not mine and I do not make any money from using them. I just like to take them out, shake them up, and let them go occasionally.

Author's Note: Here is another one from me. This story is set directly following Season 3. Everything seasons 1-3 happened. It will be AU after season 3. This is my story of putting Tom back together again. This story will be told from Tom, Ashley, Mike, and Kat Nolan's points of view. Each section will be labeled as such. It will probably be dark. It will deal with PTSD and the aftermath of pressure on a person. Hopefully I do a good job. Not sure how long it will go or how deep I'll get into season 4 story line (obviously AU as I'm changing the story line). So just know starting out that after season 3 the story line becomes mine lol. Anyway…on to the new adventure (I also promise to finish A Helping Hand!). As always, happy reading. Dark rolling sea.

HUMPTY DUMPTY

By: dark rolling sea

CHAPTER ONE

Tom Chandler

When Mike yelled "Don't look back" he had almost faltered. He was broken inside. He had tried to tell Sasha he was broken, but she wouldn't listen. She had demanded he put that uniform back on. He had thought about it for a millisecond, he had almost thought maybe…just maybe…he could do it. But right now? He knew he couldn't. He couldn't be the hero the world needed anymore. He couldn't fix a world he had lost faith in. Shaw had struck a chord with him. Maybe she was right. Someone else would just try to abuse the power. And now…he had crossed a line. A line he had so adamantly drawn before. He crossed it. He had raised that gun and fired. He had let the emotion rule the day. He had lost his poise.

Seeing Tex sitting there, lifeless. Knowing that she had ordered his father killed. His father. Gone. That hurt. Knowing his children witnessed his father being murdered hurt. Knowing he had failed them, trying to protect a world…that he now felt didn't deserve it. It ate at him. Tex. His father. Rachel. He had failed. He had failed them all…he had failed himself. He had crossed a line. For a world that had betrayed them time and time again. A country that seemed determined to rip itself apart at the seams.

He couldn't fight anymore. He couldn't do it. He wasn't that man…maybe he never had been. Duty. Loyalty. Honor. What did they even mean when no one else cared. A world that was determined to exterminate itself. Human nature. Why save it? He now felt that they never should have come back with the cure.

Now he sat in his home. His children somewhere in this house. Ashley was crying, maybe it was Sam. But he was rooted in the darkness. Stuck feeling defeated, broken…like a failure. The faces continued to flash through his mind. All those that he had ordered to their deaths plus the ones where his direct action caused their deaths. He had come very close to losing his children. He had lost his wife. He had lost his father. He had lost Rachel. He had lost sailors. He had lost Tex. He had murdered. Because there was no other word for what he had done to Shaw.

He did not have to kill her. That's what he told Sasha. And that was the absolute truth. He didn't have to…but he did. He had just raised that gun and fired. He had broken his cardinal rule. He had stood on that damn ship and cut into Rachel for the exact same thing…and no one did that to him. No one. Why. He was not a hero. He had just drove the ship. Made the right decisions on luck that kept the majority of his sailors alive. But not all of them.

And now? Now he was rooted in the darkness, listening to his children cry, and not helping. He was worthless. He was broken. He wasn't the man they thought he was. Not in his head. Not anymore. He really should go to see who was crying. He should go comfort both of them. They had lost their mother. They had watched her die. They had lost their grandfather. They had watched him murdered. Now they were losing their father. He was slipping into the abyss of self-loathing and doubt. He got up. He should have gone to his children but instead he went to his kitchen.

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and walked back to his couch. He didn't bother with a glass. No, he downed a swig and held the bottle against his leg. It burned, but not enough. He wanted to punish himself. He knew he deserved it. He had failed. But more importantly…mankind had failed him. Every turn, every crisis he fixed, every moment, someone was looking to do evil, and Tom Chandler wanted no part of it anymore.

He may have made it out okay if they hadn't murdered his father to get to his children. He may have made it out okay if they hadn't killed Tex. Tex died protecting him. Tex died saving him. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to live when so many had sacrificed…for him. He wasn't worthy. He wasn't…he just wasn't. He drank more whiskey. His father died…his dad was dead. He drank more whiskey.

The great Tom Chandler was gone. He was no longer there; the new Tom Chandler drank more whiskey. His children were crying, the world was crumbling, and he sat in the dark, drinking whiskey. He drank more whiskey. It wasn't helping. He wanted to be numb. He wanted to stop the pain. He wanted to stop the ghosts. He drank more whiskey.

Ashley Chandler

Ashley sat in her room holding her brother. Sam was crying again. He missed their mom, he missed their grandpa, he missed their dad. Ashley didn't want to close her eyes, because when she did…she saw her grandpa die over and over again. She had barely slept since they had been kidnapped by Shaw's people. Sam had cried himself asleep every night. Ashley was scared. Their dad had been ignoring them. He had walked away from everything…including them it seemed. She didn't know what happened on that plane, but something had made her dad change. He wasn't there anymore, there was just the shell of him, but inside, her dad was gone.

She had no idea how to help him. She had no idea how to help Sam either, other than to hold him as he cried. But who held her? When did she get to cry. When did she get to grieve? Life had been cruel in the last eighteen months. The world had gotten sick and mostly died off. Then her mom had gotten sick. They watched her die. But life wasn't done with them. They had come very close, multiple times, to losing their dad. And then they lost their grandpa. She closed her eyes and watched as he died in front of her again. Protecting her and Sam. She opened them as silent tears slid down her face. Sam was quieting now. She looked down and saw his eyes had closed, his breathing no longer ragged but even.

She slid him down to the pillow and tucked a blanket around him before laying down next to him. They were alone, and it hurt. Their father was right out in the living room, but they were alone. She laid watching her brother sleep, doing everything in her power to keep awake. She hated sleeping now. So many images. So many nightmares to relive. She wondered if Sam had the same problems. Exhaustion was creeping up on her, so she got up and went to the kitchen. Her dad didn't even notice as she walked through the darkened room. Maybe he wasn't even conscious.

She got herself something to drink and then walked to the living room again. She stood, staring at his form on the couch. Fear washed through her. He was the last one. The last adult that would take care of them, and yet he was incapable of taking care of himself right now. She was worried. If it hadn't been for her, Sam and she wouldn't have eaten all week. She had no idea if her father was even eating. She knew he was drinking…a lot.

He never noticed her standing there watching him. He drank more whiskey, and she felt the tears slip down her face. Maybe she should call someone. Maybe she should let someone know. She was old enough to know how to take care of her and Sammy, but it was a scary thought. She shifted a little so she could see him better and her heart skipped a hard beat. He had the whiskey in one hand and a gun in the other.

"Dad?" she whispered, her voice shaking with fear. He didn't acknowledge her. He didn't move. She stepped closer and swiped at her eyes, knocking the tears that were blurring her vision away. She swallowed hard and took in a deep shuddering breath. "Dad?" she tried again, her face quaking.

Still no answer, no movement. She stepped closer and noticed his eyes were shut. She hurried to her room and slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She went to the bed and laid down next to her brother and cried as quietly as she could. She had no idea what to do, but she was terrified she was about to lose her father too. He was so strong and noble, a hero even if he didn't see himself that way. But now, he was broken, and it scared her…badly. She had never seen him like this before. She felt her eyes slipping shut as she fell asleep.

Mike Slattery

Slattery sat in his home. They had sailed the Nathan James to Norfolk shortly after the disaster with Shaw. The James was in serious need of repairs after the fight with the Chinese and then the damage Shaw and Witt had inflicted with the UAV. Now he was on shore duty until the James could be retrofitted. His crew was assigned to various duties, some working on the ship, some working in offices helping restructure the military after they had taken down the coup.

President Oliver was desperately piecing the country back together…again. Mike sighed. Pain ripped through him. He hadn't anticipated the pain being this bad, being back in his house, his family gone, most likely dead.

The only one he had confirmation on was Lucas. Christine and the girls had disappeared without a trace. He felt the pain seep into his pores and knew he needed to find somewhere else to live. He got up from his couch, the house seemed to be crying in pain around him. He grabbed his keys and headed out to his truck. He would drive around, maybe find someplace to stay for the night. And he did. Drive around. When he finally got tired, he found a hotel and checked in for the night. He'd find something more permanent tomorrow.

He stretched out on the hotel bed and blew out a breath. He was ready for life to settle down. But at the same time, he wasn't. Because if it did…he'd have to grieve and face the truth about his family. He closed his eyes and pushed the distressing images from his mind. He fell asleep.

He was in a hut. His arms and legs were secured. He couldn't move. They stabbed a needle in his arm, and he struggled against the restraints. He looked to his side, and he saw Mason staring at him on another table. His eyes were dull and lifeless, his body stiff, immobile. Mike fought his restraints again. Mason's body faded and then it was Garnett on the table.

"Sir?" she asked in a confused voice. "Why can't we leave?"

"I'm trying," Mike ground out as he fought against the restraints again, but he was feeling weaker as the needle drained his blood from his body.

"Sir?" Garnett asked again, her voice weak. "Help us."

"I'm trying," he cried out again.

Mike sat bolt upright in the hotel bed and cried out a strangled grunt. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat. He still felt exhausted. In moving venues, he had traded one nightmare for another. He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand. He then decided to take a quick shower and then try to sleep again.

Kat Nolan

Kat sat in a shelter. She was an orphan now. She had come with the Nathan James to Norfolk, as she hadn't had anywhere else to go. She had been crying for a week. She had just gotten her father back and then he was taken away from her once again. She didn't know what she was going to do. She didn't have anywhere to go, her family was gone, she was alone. The Navy had placed her in this shelter, but she couldn't stay here, she just wanted to be by herself.

She dropped down from her upper bunk and slipped out of the room, leaving the other seven girls in the room. She slipped outside into the cool night air and stared up at the stars. She missed her dad, and this time…he wasn't coming back. He had died protecting their great captain. She knew he had thought very highly of Chandler, but in the moment she couldn't quite like the man. Not when he was alive, and her dad was dead.

Maybe in time she wouldn't blame the man, but for now, it was something tangible she could latch on to. She sat hugging her knees to her chest staring up at the stars for a long time, trying to empty her mind of everything. She was tired of crying. She was tired of missing people. She just wanted her dad back.

She needed to make some decisions in her life. She needed to figure out where to stay. The shelter she was in was okay, but it wasn't going to cut it in the long run. She knew that. She knew she needed to find somewhere else to stay. She sighed.

"What are you doing out here?" A voice asked. It wasn't accusatory. It was just concerned. Kat let her head drift in that direction and saw one of the female attendants standing there watching her.

"I couldn't sleep. Needed some air," Kat said as she hugged her knees tightly against her chest again. She saw the look of pity cross the woman's face before Kat looked away.

"Okay. You shouldn't be out here alone at dark. Come back inside."

Kat sighed again. She could definitely take care of herself. Her dad had taught her well. But she complied with the woman and slowly stood up, stretching slightly before she followed her inside. Kat wordlessly went back to her room and climbed up into her bunk. She lay with her arms behind her head, staring at the ceiling, for a few hours before sleep finally took her.

TO BE CONTINUED…