A/N — Aspect reminded me that the holidays are quickly approaching. Is there interest in a Holiday Fest and/or do you have any prompts? If so, drop one of us a review or PM. xoxo — kals
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Chapter 13
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"This is getting to be a habit."
Sasha watched, silently, as Tom closed the door behind him and crossed the cabin. She was expecting him to walk past her, taking the chair behind his desk as he had every other time he entered his cabin to find it already occupied. Tonight, however, Tom dropped onto the couch next to her, eyes closing as he leaned his head back against the wall. Taking advantage of their proximity and relative privacy, Sasha studied him. The silver gray that now replaced his dark brown curls was, if anything, more attractive, and Tom's body remained as sculpted as ever. His face was where she could see the passage of years, both good and bad, in the laugh lines around the corner of his eyes and the worry lines etched into his forehead.
"A photograph would last longer," Tom murmured.
She should probably be embarrassed to be caught staring but, for once, Sasha didn't care. She had certainly caught him watching her, after all, and fair was fair. She reached out a hand to smooth back a loose curl. As much as she enjoyed the look, he really did need a haircut. "I can't say that I ever expected to hear you quote Jed."
Tom's lips curled. "Dad humor. It gets the best of us."
Dad humor.
Sasha tried to imagine Berchem telling such a joke, but the idea was laughable. Another way in which their worlds differed. "Impossible."
"Definitely possible," Tom replied, confusing Sasha until she realized that she must have spoken the last word aloud. Although he thought that they were still talking about bad jokes. "Just wait. Green will be doing it within two years."
Sasha blinked, wanting to argue but suspecting — no, knowing — that Tom was right. As much as Sasha never believed Danny capable of completely leaving the field, she also knew that he intended to be an involved father. Not really that different from Tom. "Maybe."
"Are you going to tell me why you're here?" Tom asked after a moment of quiet.
Sasha considered all of the excuses that she prepared to explain her presence here, before punting. "You tell me."
"Hmmm." Tom cracked an eye, peeking at her, but Sasha pretended not to see. "You wanted to know if I killed Green."
Despite herself, Sasha smiled. "Nope. He's a big boy and he knows how to behave when he wants to."
"For the record," Tom replied, sounding unconvinced, "he's smarter than he looks."
"Not much of a compliment since he looks like a meathead," Sasha replied tartly.
"Well, if you weren't worried about Green," Tom pressed on, "you must be here to poke holes in Operation find-a-random-guy-in-Texas-who-is-probably-already-dead."
This time she laughed. She did hate the plan. She hated the fact that she would, once again, be impersonating Rachel during the initial arrival at the New Orleans Superdome, which meant that she couldn't be on the team heading to Texas to make contact with Pablo. She hated the fact that Danny would be out in the field without her there to watch his back, despite knowing that he would kill her if she even hinted that she was worried about him. She even hated the fact that Kara would be joining Rachel once the doctor was allowed off the ship, her first time serving as Doctor Scott's liaison.
But none of that was why Sasha was there, in Tom's cabin, and they both knew it.
"I'm surprised you agreed to let Kara join Rachel in Houston," Sasha said after a moment.
Tom's forehead wrinkled, and Sasha just restrained herself from reaching out to smooth away the line. "It's hard to argue that it's not safe to send a member of my crew when we are sending Doctor Scott. I asked to delay Kara's transfer to a permanent posting with the CDC until Granderson can find us another qualified TAO, but I'm pretty sure Granderson is suspicious."
Sasha frowned. There was something odd about what Tom said. "You think that Granderson wants Rachel off the Nathan James."
"Yes, I think that's why she sent Solace initially." Tom's eyes cut to Sasha. "Is Green pissed? About Kara leaving the ship?"
"Probably," Sasha admitted, realizing only now how odd it was that Danny hadn't been bitching up a storm. She snorted softly.
Tom gazed at her curiously. "What?"
"Because the only reason I can think of for Danny not throwing a temper tantrum right now is that he already tried talking Kara out of going and she was ... less than receptive to the idea."
She watched as Tom's mouth curved, and then he was laughing too. He flashed her a sly grin before resuming his prior position, head seemingly relaxed against the couch, eyes closed. "I seem to recall having a few of those conversations."
Their eyes met, held, both of them recalling those moments in the helicopter bay when Sasha told Tom that she would be volunteering for the vaccination trial.
Refusing to be pulled into the memories, Sasha dropped her voice. "You should let Danny handle the trip to Texas, Tom. If things go south and Granderson finds out what's going on, Danny can hide behind me. He was just following orders and reaching out to one of my contacts. I'll be the one who takes the fall."
"Green said that they went to basic together," Tom observed. "Hard for him to argue that he doesn't know the guy."
Surprised that Danny told Tom about his history with Pablo, Sasha raised an eyebrow, but Tom's eyes remained stubbornly closed. Maybe forcing the two of them to work together hadn't been such a bad idea. Her goal had been to force Tom to see Danny for the asset that he was, but she had no expectations that Danny would be anything other than coolly compliant. "Pablo joined up under his original name, which has been erased from his file."
"I won't send a team to do something that I'm not willing to do myself," Tom said, stubbornness creeping into his voice. His eyes finally opened, revealing cool steel. "Besides, we're in this together, Sasha. I'm not walking away. Not from the mission and not from you."
And that, when it came down to it, was why she was here.
Because she knew he would never agree to do the sensible thing and stay here, on the Nathan James.
Sasha sat up. "Don't you understand? This — us — will never work. You have a good life, Tom. You have a career that you rebuilt from scratch after what happened in Kosovo. And I won't let you throw that away. Not for me."
In the silence that followed, she could hear the words echoing in the cabin. Revealing too much.
Tom sat forward, not touching her, not quite, but so close that she could feel the heat from his body. "That's not your choice to make, Sasha. You picked my ship, you picked me for this mission. And Green may be willing to let you take the fall alone, but I'm not."
The words were like a slap to her face, making breathing impossible. How could she have so lost control of everything? But Tom wasn't finished.
"I'm not letting this go, Sasha. I'll admit that I'm not sure about this Pablo guy or the cartel connection, but I do know that Granderson is consciously preventing the spread of the vaccine for political reasons," he paused. "Secretary Marcus contacted Dad before he died."
Her fury disappearing in an instant, Sasha's eyes shot to Tom's face. She took into the harsh lines, as well as the sorrow. "What did he say?"
"That he was betrayed by one of the few people in his inner circle, and it wasn't Dad," Tom replied. His voice softened. "If you're right, Sasha, this Pablo may be the only person who understands what is happening in Mexico and whether it's connected to Amy Granderson. I need to know if she was responsible for Marcus's death, for myself and for Dad."
No matter which way she cut it, that was something Sasha understood. Because unless she was completely wrong — and Sasha didn't believe that for a second — Pablo was going to confirm that Amy Granderson had some connection with the Sinaloa Cartel. Tom needed to hear what Pablo said in person, both because Secretary Marcus was a friend of Jed's and also because Tom was not the kind of man to walk away from an injustice. If they were correct, and Amy Granderson was responsible for the deaths of thousands of American citizens in her drive for political power, Tom would use every tool in his toolbox to bring her to justice.
No matter the cost to himself.
A lump grew in Sasha's throat, and she forced the words out. "I suspect that Granderson was behind the outbreak at Darien's retreat."
"I suspect the same," Tom admitted, before quickly adding. "Assuming that Granderson is behind these attacks to begin with."
Ignoring the caveat — one that Sasha deemed no more substantial than Frankie's threats to quit the team — Sasha focused on his admission. "You're putting your family in danger, Tom. I never intended for that to happen."
In response he smiled, then shook his head. "You still don't get it, Sasha. Because even if I backed off now. Even if I quashed the mission to contact this Pablo and forgot everything that Jacob Barnes told us, my family would still be in danger because you would be in danger."
"I'm not your family, Tom," Sasha whispered. She reached forward, taking his hand in both of hers. "That's what I've been trying to explain. This — us — can never work. I'm putting you in danger. You, this crew, Jed, Ashely, Sam and even Darien. That's all because of me."
"More danger than they were in before the Nathan James headed to the Arctic?" Tom asked, eyebrows raising. "Because I know what happened to the ships that were sent to the Mediterranean Sea. Entire crews dead from the virus. Oh, and if we are going to talk about family, would Sam and Ashley have been safer in Norfolk with Darien? Because the summer camp Mike's son was scheduled to attend was infected and most of the kids died. If my family is in danger because of what we are doing now, Sasha, it's only because you were there to save them the first time. Don't hide behind the idea that your job is too dangerous. This — us — can work, Sasha. But you have to make a decision about whether you want it to work."
Tears threatened, and Sasha angrily pressed them away. Her eyes burned as she fought to control her voice. "Our timing is terrible."
"True," Tom admitted, the corner of his lips curling. "Still, it could be worse. I'm not the one who proposed while in quarantine."
A burst of laughter escaped Sasha, despite herself. "Only because you knew there wasn't a chance that I would say yes."
"Do you think that they'll make it?" Tom asked. "Despite the terrible timing and the fact that, I have on good authority, Kara referred to their marriage as a farce designed to make sure she got Green's benefits?"
Sasha took a moment to consider before she answered. "Yes, I do." She met Tom's eyes, letting him know that his less-than-subtle point was not lost on her.
Sometimes, love was a choice.
No, not love. If she was honest, Sasha could admit that the love never left. The choice was about whether to fight for Tom, to accept the past and find a way to move forward together, or to let him go.
And this time, she would know exactly what she was walking away from.
Silence fell, a comfortable silence as they sat looking at each other, each focused on their own thoughts. Then Tom raised a hand to stifle a yawn and Sasha was reminded how late it was and, worse, all that they needed to accomplish the next day. "I should go."
"I'm fairly certain that you don't want to go by your cabin," Tom murmured.
Suppressing a groan, Sasha wondered if Frankie bothered leaving his own door unlocked so she could crash there. It seemed unlikely, Benz wasn't known for his thoughtfulness. Which left Sasha with the options of interrupting Frankie and Nina, waking up Kara in order to get Danny's key, or sleeping in the lounge — again. Abruptly, Sasha remembered who she was talking to. She frowned at Tom. "Why would you say that?"
Tom rolled his eyes before leaning down to begin unlacing his boots. "If you looked up the word discrete, Benz would be listed as an antonym. If we weren't in the middle of a pandemic and short-staffed to boot, I would have kicked both him and Lieutenant Mir off the ship in a second." He paused, before adding. "If you want, you're welcome to stay here."
Sasha snorted. "Hypocrite, much?"
His hands flew up and an almost boyish smile crossed his face. "I just meant that you're welcome to the couch. Nothing more."
Torn, Sasha knew that she should leave. But even the thought of finding her way to the lounge felt like too much work. Leaning down, she unlaced her own boots. "Move over, cowboy. You're sitting on my bed."
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A/N — so... progress, right? We all know what that means is coming ... hahaha. xoxo — kals