A/N — thank you to Aspect for letting me obsess over one line in this chapter, because I'm just that crazy. xoxo — kals

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Chapter 11

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Sasha opened her eyes to find Danny's face approximately six inches from her own. At her scowl, he quickly jerked backwards. "I was starting to wonder if you were actually dead."

"What he means," Frankie added from somewhere outside of Sasha's line of sight, "was that he's never gotten that close to you without risking certain sensitive portions of his anatomy."

"Are we in the lounge?" she asked, trying to orient herself. The last thing she remembered clearly was ducking in her in an effort to avoid Tom and Mike, who must have been heading to engineering.

"Yes." Rolling his eyes, Danny straightened, waiting until Sasha sat up before dropping onto the couch next to her. "Seriously, Sash, you need to get some actual sleep. In your own bunk. Which I know is empty because Benz is here and not occupying it."

"Hey!" Frankie chucked what appeared to be a hacky sack at Danny, who promptly chucked it back.

Ignoring them, Sasha slumped back against the lumpy couch — knowing that Danny was right, but also that it wasn't so simple. Because every time she laid down in her bunk, she found herself wide awake, her mind fixated on what Amy Granderson could possibly be doing that involved the Sinaloa Cartel. Worse, on the few occasions when Sasha managed to banish Granderson from her mind long enough to fall asleep, Sasha inevitably found her thoughts turning to the other subject that was guaranteed to disrupt her rest.

Thomas Chandler.

She had been avoiding him for the last two days, since the night when she — stupidly, in retrospect — invaded his cabin. Even before she picked the lock on the door, Sasha knew it was a mistake, but the compulsion to know why Jed called was too great to ignore. Ironically, those four hours of sleep on Tom's couch were likely the most restful sleep she had gotten since the day that the Nathan James reached Savannah. Because despite knowing, objectively, that giving Tom — giving them — another chance was a terrible idea that would only end in heartache, Sasha couldn't shake a feeling of rightness whenever she was with him. Lying on his couch, surrounded by items that Tom touched on a daily basis as well as the lingering scent of his aftershave, had taken her back fourteen years to a time when Tom was the most important person in her world. But more importantly, she had been secure in the knowledge that she was also the most important person in his world. The temptation to slip back into the old roles was irresistible.

Almost.

Once again, Sasha reminded herself that nostalgia was, by definition, not an accurate portrayal of the past. Even fourteen years ago, things with Tom weren't perfect. Now, however, Sasha had much more to lose — and it was no longer just about her, was it? When setting up the meetings in Savannah, Sasha had known implicitly that Tom would never disclose the names of her contacts. Jesse and Jacob and even Karl were all safe. But what would Tom think if he learned about some of the things that she had done since they parted ways? Would he continue to look at her the way he did now? Worse, what if something she said ended up hurting Danny or Frankie? That, more than anything, was what she needed to remember.

It was no longer just about her.

"You chase off all the JOs, you know," Frankie complained. "How am I supposed to fleece the kids when they take one look at you and take off?"

"As if you don't have plenty tucked away for a rainy day already, Benz," Sasha replied dryly. Frankie hadn't exactly hidden the fact that he acquired a decent nest egg before flipping the middle finger to Wall Street and joining the Marines. What Frankie didn't broadcast, but Sasha knew thanks to Shannon, was that Benz recently established a college fund for Emma Berchem and, apparently, walked Smith through the process of doing the same for his nieces. Sasha strongly suspected that the seed money for Jay's accounts was coming from Frankie as well.

"Is there such a thing as too much money?" Frankie replied.

Before Frankie could get started waxing on one of his favorite subjects, Danny changed the subject. "Captain wants an update at 0300. He specifically requested that you attend."

"I offered to take your place, of course," Frankie began, only to stop when Danny shot him a pointed look. Frankie huffed. "Fine, I'll go. But you're a married man, Green. You need to start thinking about what you'll tell your wife if she walks in here to find the two of you alone together."

"Kara would say that I'm doing my job," Danny replied, missing Frankie's head with the hacky sack as he disappeared out the door. "Asshole."

As Danny went to retrieve the ball, Sasha spoke softly. "Is that true?"

Danny snorted. "You mean does Kara think that we used to screw and therefore will be giving you the evil eye every time you pass in the corridor for the remainder of the mission? Nope. Although that does sound strangely like something I've been experiencing..."

"I meant," Sasha said, cutting him off, "how much do you tell her?"

"About the team?" Danny raised an eyebrow, dropping down into the chair that Frankie had abandoned, tossing the ball up and down. At Sasha's nod, he continued. "I've told her about some things, stuff that she would be cleared for. No details, though, if that's what you're worried about."

"And she's okay with that?" Sasha asked, uncertain whether she was asking because she was worried about Danny, or if the question was really about her.

Danny shrugged. "Kara gets it. She's done plenty of stuff that she can't tell me relating to testing computer systems or new weapon systems. Most of it would probably go over my head anyway. They don't teach electronics in Jarhead school."

"Cute, Kotenok, but I've watched you build a ham radio from spare junk," Sasha corrected.

"In other words, I've made it into the twentieth century," Danny quipped.

Ignoring the dumb Marine routine, Sasha attempted to focus on the issue at hand. "So, spit it out, why did you get rid of Benz?"

"You have to stop ignoring him, Sasha." It was Danny's tone more than his words that got her attention. "I know that you and the Captain have a past and you've clearly not over it, but we need him right now. You said that you picked Chandler for a reason — because at the end of the day he would believe you and back you up. You were right. Up there in the Arctic, Chandler made the hard calls and we found a cure for this thing. But if you keep pushing him away, at some point he's going to give up, and where does that leave us? Play it out to the end, Lisichka."

Sasha started to protest, only to stop. Danny was right. Worse, he knew that he was right and he wasn't giving her shit about it — which meant that he also understood far more than Sasha would have liked about her current feelings towards one Thomas Chandler. She leaned forward, head dropping into her hands. "I can't figure out what Granderson is up to. It's driving me crazy. What possible reason could there be for one of the President's closest advisors to team up with a Mexican Cartel?"

"I don't get it either," Danny said, tossing the hacky sack. "From what Alisha says, the woman treats her life like a chess match. She's all about the long-term strategy. Kind of like someone else I know," Danny paused, giving Sasha a meaningful glance. "Maybe Granderson needed a hitman or something."

But Sasha wasn't listening. She stood, staring at him. "That's it. That's the connection!"

Danny blinked, then stood following her toward the door. "What's the ..."

"We need to get Tom and Rachel, now."

xxxxx

Rachel stood, staring at the map showing the virus's disbursement pattern, as well as hot spots. "I'm sorry, Sasha, but there is simply no discernable pattern. While I would expect hot spots in large cities, such as New York and Los Angeles, which we can see," Rachel's hand swept across the map, highlighting the two largest concentrations of the virus, "there is simply no explanation for the outbreak in Omaha, Nebraska other than simple bad luck."

"Meaning that someone who was infected was allowed into the safe zone?" Sasha asked. Or, Tom noted, more accurately demanded.

Together, albeit in a room full of people, for the first time in two days, Tom allowed his gaze to sweep over Sasha. She looked tired, more tired than she had after leaving Doak Stadium, and Tom wondered again what she was doing in the fifty-six hours since she left his cabin. Clearly, sleep had not been high on the list. He almost hadn't requested this meeting — torn between allowing Sasha the time and space that she appeared to need, and knowing how important it was to have a strategy in place before reaching New Orleans. But they had left Biloxi and Gulfport after delivering all of Solace's available doses into the hands of the Mississippi National Guard two hours before, giving them little time to prepare for the much more extensive planned distribution in New Orleans. A place, like Florida, where Rachel planned to join the landing party.

Ultimately, duty won, leaving Tom to wonder how much this would cost him on a personal level.

Rachel glanced at Tom, her face registering confusion, but he shook his head, not understanding Sasha's point any more than Rachel. Rachel turned back to the map. "Yes. The safe zone held for several weeks, which means that it was not a failure in the initial screening system."

Sasha shuffled a handful of papers, her movements almost frenzied. Tom found his gaze drawn to Green, hoping to see something on the younger man's face suggesting that he, at least, understood what was going on. Unfortunately, Green's expression was closed, telling Tom nothing.

Sasha finally found the paper she was looking for. "Nine days ago, a dozen military personnel were transferred from Texas to Omaha. The transfer was authorized under a plan established by Amy Granderson to allow military personnel to serve at the safe zone where their families were located. All six were supposed to be quarantined for a week before actually being allowed into the safe zone, but that protocol wasn't followed. The outbreak began forty-eight hours after the transfer occurred."

"It's unfortunate but this virus is insidious," Rachel explained. "We simply do not have the protocols in place to prevent its spread. That's why disbursement of the vaccine is so critical."

"There was a similar situation in Baltimore, with Olympia becoming infected a week after several hundred people were evacuated from Fort Detrick to Olympia. Oh, and in Florida, Granderson was the one who approved the transfer of Michener's son from Michigan. The outbreak has been traced back to him. Six safe zones had outbreaks within two weeks of Amy Granderson approving a transfer," Sasha said, slapping the papers down on the table. She looked up then, directly at Tom, and he saw the fury in her eyes. "She was deliberately infecting these safe zones."

There was dead silence in the room for a long moment, until Rachel cracked, her voice dazed. "But why? She was the one who pushed for approval for my mission. One of the few to recognize how dangerous it was."

"Maybe that's why." Every eye turned to Kara, but she kept her gaze on Sasha. "Mrs. Granderson and Secretary Michener clashed publicly on a number of occasions. He was pushing for more money for infrastructure, which would mean a reduction in military spending, and the President seemed sympathetic to the argument."

Kara's theory was certainly in line with the information from Jacob Barnes, but Tom questioned how much they could trust information from a known conspiracy theorist.

"Let's not jump to conclusions here, people," Tom cautioned, making sure that he wasn't looking in Sasha's direction. "It's likely that Mrs. Granderson has clashed with numerous other politicians. That seems to be the way that things work in Washington."

"She approved all of the transfers," Sasha repeated, her voice sharp. But when Tom glanced her way, Sasha wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was focused on Green, the two engaged in some sort of unspoken communication.

"We don't know how many transfers Mrs. Granderson approved where there weren't outbreaks," Mike pointed out. "Besides, I doubt she handled the paperwork directly. Someone in her office could have made a mistake authorizing a few ill-advised transfers. Is there anything besides the transfers suggesting that these outbreaks are more than simple bad luck? Why would someone want to infect a safe zone in Omaha, Nebraska?"

Kara looked down at the map. "Omaha is ... where Alisha's father lived."

Green moved slightly, and Tom saw Danny's hand brush across Kara's lower back. Omaha was a particularly bad outbreak, with the vaccine and cure arriving only after more than half the safe zone was infected. Mike beat Tom to the question. "Was he one of the casualties?"

"He's in critical condition," Kara said quietly, and Tom kicked himself for not knowing that. As though reading his mind, Kara's eyes rose to his. "Lieutenant Granderson isn't close to her father, sir. She chose not to request any personal time."

"Still, please keep us informed," Tom replied, making a mental note to have Russ check on the remainder of the crew. Of the eleven crew members who lost family before the Nathan James reached Savannah, roughly half, including Green and Gibson, chose to stay with the ship. Tom hadn't thought to ask how many others had family in serious condition, however. Returning to the original topic, he added. "While I can understand that Mrs. Granderson might not get along with her former spouse, people frequently divorce and rarely kill their spouse after the fact."

There was a slight pause, as if everyone was reflecting on the fact that Tom himself was divorced, and he briefly wondered if Darien's infection was common knowledge. Given the speed at which rumors spread on the ship, the answer was most likely yes.

Kara broke the silence. "I can't speak to specifics, sir, but my understanding is that Mr. Granderson knew things about Amy Granderson that she didn't want becoming public knowledge. You would have to ask Lieutenant Granderson for specifics, but she has mentioned that her father leveraged information he had about her mother in order to get a divorce."

"I see." Tom felt a chill run down his back. Sasha was right — there was something here. Tom took a step closer, reviewing the map. "What about Baltimore? Is there a connection?"

Sasha was the one to answer. "That's where the Secretary of the Treasury was located. The person directly above Amy in the line of presidential succession."

"A position she got after Secretary Marcus died," Green added, jaw tight. "Marcus was infected when he met with some ambassador who bypassed security at LaGuardia. Mrs. Granderson personally authorized the change in protocol. The man infected the entire airport."

"And the only reason that Marcus didn't bring the virus back to the White House is that he quarantined himself," Sasha added, her tone clipped. "The President had already been moved, but the Vice President and several cabinet members remained in the bunker. She could have taken them out in one single swoop."

Tom frowned, the reference to Marcus reminding him of something that he couldn't quite remember. "Even if the bunker was infected, Mrs. Granderson wouldn't have moved higher in the line of succession. The President would appoint new cabinet members."

"Cabinet members have to be approved by the Senate," Sasha noted, quietly. "That takes time."

Quiet settled over the cabin as everyone stared at the map, their minds whirling. Mike finally spoke. "Mrs. Granderson was the one who sent the Nathan James to Florida. If she wanted Michener dead, why go out of her way to save him?"

"Because she didn't," Rachel interjected, her voice now confident. "Jeffrey Michener is immune, which we knew immediately upon our arrival in Florida. His son was in critical condition, his wife and daughters clearly ill, but Jeffrey wasn't sick. Assuming the original plan was to kill Jeffrey, it would have been obvious that it failed."

"She knew that her plan wasn't going to work," Tom said, feeling his own anger rising as he realized how many people might have died for one woman's ambition. "And by directing the Nathan James to Florida..."

"She could play hero and save Michener's family," Sasha finished.

Their gaze locked, and Tom knew that Sasha believed every word she was saying. Again, she was asking him to believe her, to trust that she wouldn't steer him wrong. Still, there was a huge hole in Sasha's theory. "She might have approved the transfers, but she didn't infect them. At most, she took advantage."

"Unless she got help from the Sinaloa cartel."

Completely focused on Sasha, it took Tom a moment to process Green's statement. "Elaborate."

"The provided intel," Green was careful not to mention Jacob Barnes directly, Tom noted, "also showed times when Mrs. Granderson was in touch with her counterpart in Mexico. There was always a call made to Mexico from Mrs. Granderson's office no more than twenty-four hours before a transfer was approved, and a call from Mexico approximately forty-eight hours before each outbreak began."

"I assisted Lieutenant Green with the analysis of the information, sir," Kara added. "The phone calls line up exactly."

"You think the Secretary of Defense is in league with the Sinaloa Cartel?" Mike choked, his disbelief completely unfeigned.

Sasha inclined her head. "Yes."

"That's..." Mike paused. "Insane."

"Yes." Tom paused, thinking, trying to catch up. "If you're right, the Cartel is deliberately infecting people. That's incredibly risky. What are they getting out of the deal?"

Sasha blew out a frustrated breath. "We don't know. It's the one piece that I, we, can't understand. We need more intel."

"How do we get it?" Tom asked, looking back and forth between Sasha and Danny.

"We have a contact," Danny began, only for Sasha to cut him off.

"We have a friend in DEA. He was near Mexico City until about a month ago," Sasha explained. "He dropped out of communication around the time that one of his colleagues, a guy named Damien, was killed."

Damien. Tom knew that name. "Jesse's brother."

Sasha nodded. "I tried Pablo earlier without luck, but Green has a knack for finding him," Sasha explained, her lips pressed together. "Unfortunately, we can't use standard methods. Which means that we'll need Lieutenant Granderson's help."

Tom looked at Kara, but she shook her head. "This is beyond what I can do, sir."

He couldn't put that on Alisha.

Not now, not with her father possibly dying.

"No." When Sasha moved to protest, Tom held up a hand. "Let me see what you need, first, then I'll make a decision."

Sasha frowned, but finally nodded. "I will leave you and Lieutenant Green to work through the issues." Tom could have sworn that he saw a smile flitter across her face before she spoke again. "And hopefully that fancy master's degree in electrical and computer engineering was good for something."

She was almost to the door when Danny called her. "Commander Cooper."

Barely holding back a sigh, Sasha turned. She waited until Danny was close enough that nobody else could hear. "If you're about to ask not to work with him..."

"No." Danny shook his head, pausing before he spoke. "You asked how much I told Kara. After the Russians, Kara asked if I knew about the virus. I think," he paused, then shrugged, "no, I'm certain that she wouldn't have forgiven me for that. There are secrets and then there are secrets, you know?"

And, weirdly, Sasha did. Because having a secret wasn't the real issue, not exactly. It was about loyalty. Sasha found her eyes wandering to Tom, their gazes catching and holding, and she suddenly understood what he was trying to tell her the other night. Tom knew, had to know, that Sasha could never tell him half of the things she had done over the past fourteen years. And chances were that Tom couldn't tell her half of what he did during those years either. But none of that mattered.

Because when faced with the choice between following orders and warning those she could, Sasha picked his family.