A/N — well, this has taken about two weeks longer than expected but almost there! This week we're back to regularly scheduled updates and I have a new short-ish Danara coming soon. xoxo — kals

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Chapter 9: Sam Chandler

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Sam cut through the water easily, the stroke taking no more effort than walking after so many years of practice. There had been half a second, back when he was in high school, when Sam even imagined going to the Olympics. But then he had a major growth spurt and couldn't manage to even walk in a straight line, never mind swim in one, and Sam found that swimming wasn't as much fun when it was hard. So, he quit the team.

Much to his father's disappointment.

Executing an easy turn, Sam shot halfway across the pool. Dad had repeatedly asked why he continued to swim daily after quitting the swim team, and Sam's explanation that he quit the team because he wanted to enjoy his daily swims seemed to only confuse his father further. Not that Sam expected anything different. Dad was like Ashley — everything they did was designed to meet some carefully predetermined goal and, once one goal was met, they immediately moved on to the next. It was a lifestyle that Sam didn't plan to replicate, despite Dad's best efforts to interest Sam in various career paths. Sam found himself smiling as he surfaced, thinking about how casual Dad tried to be over the last year while mentioning how many open positions there currently were with the Navy. Sam hadn't needed to catch Ashley rolling her eyes to realize what Dad was doing.

Tom Chandler was not the subtle type, and he was clearly convinced that Sam was going to spend the next ten years sleeping on couches and spending his days playing video games. Pushing wet hair back from his face, Sam wondered what Dad thought about the news he had dropped at dinner last night. Dad had been suspiciously quiet, making Sam wonder if he was disappointed again. That did seem to be the theme of their relationship, after all, with Sam never quite living up to his father's expectations.

"I wish that I could swim like you."

Sam's head jerked up, so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Frankie sitting on the edge of the pool, his legs splashing in the water. "Hey G-man. I thought that you were going mini golfing with your Dad."

If possible, Frankie slumped more. "I was fighting with Mark and accidentally hit him and Mark started screaming and that woke Mom up and she puked and now Dad's mad. He told me to wait in the courtyard."

Given how much Frankie and Mark fought, Sam questioned the accident part, but instead of making Frankie feel worse, Sam gave him a grin. "Guess that means we have time for a swim lesson, then."

Frankie blinked, before a bright smile split across his face. "For real?" Then the smile faded. "Dad said not to go in the pool."

"I'm sure he meant not to go in by yourself," Sam replied, pretending not to notice that Frankie's feet were already in the pool. The kid did like to argue semantics. Grinning brightly, Frankie hopped to his feet and pulled his shirt over his head. Sam wasn't sure that his shorts were actually swim trunks, but he figured it didn't really matter. Frankie wasn't a terrible swimmer — five years of swim lessons meant that he knew the basics. But he was hesitant in the water, which meant that both Danny and Kara tended to hover when Frankie was swimming. Ironically, the more they hovered, the more Frankie seemed to struggle. Sam suspected that the problem was in Frankie's head, the result of having two parents who were excellent swimmers themselves. It was a problem that Sam understood, having lived the last ten years in the shadow of The Man Who Saved The World. Sam waited until Frankie jumped into the pool. "Okay, kiddo. Now show me how that freestyle is looking."

As Frankie swam back and forth, Sam made a few comments but, mostly, just let Frankie swim. After all — no matter what his father might say — the entire point of swimming was to have fun and nobody had fun when they were being corrected. Ten minutes passed before Sam caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned, expecting to see Danny, only to find his father settling into the lounger next to the pool. Apparently noticing Sam looking in his direction, Dad waved a hand, picking up a thick tome with some dead admiral on the front cover.

Sam turned back to Frankie but found that he couldn't relax. There was no good reason for Dad to be here, by the pool — which probably meant he wanted to talk.

And nothing good ever came of those conversations.

Forcing his attention away from his father, Sam refocused on Frankie, who had popped up from the water. "You're a really good swim coach, Sam."

"Thanks, G-man," Sam replied, touched despite the fact that he hadn't actually taught Frankie anything.

Another ten minutes passed before Danny appeared, nodding to Dad before he crouched down by the side of the pool, waiting until Frankie head appeared. "Hey Frankie, you ready to go play some mini golf?"

Frankie's face brightened, although he remained slightly wary. "I'm sorry that I hit Mark."

"To be fair, he did kind of put his head in the way of your feet," Danny replied. Without thinking, Sam glanced at his father, seeing the same mirth that Sam was feeling on Dad's face. "Mom's feeling better and she's going to take care of Mark so we can have some fun."

All wariness gone, Frankie scrambled out of the water, pulling his shirt over his head without waiting to dry off. "Bye Sam! Thank you for the swim lesson!"

Danny paused, glancing between Sam and his father. "You two want to come with us?"

Sam blinked trying to remember the last time he played mini golf with his dad. He was about to say never, when a vague memory of the summer before the pandemic hit came to mind. Dad was home that year, and they did a family vacation to Myrtle Beach. Still, one time twelve years ago was hardly ...

"Sounds good to me," Dad replied, closing his book with a solid thump. "What do you think, Sam?"

Surprised but figuring this was as good a time as any to find out what his father really thought about his new career path as a chef, Sam climbed out of the pool. "Sure, let me just dry off a bit."

Dad stood as Sam grabbed his towel. They were silent for a moment, watching Danny negotiate with Frankie over the need to wear shoes. Then Dad sighed. "I forget, sometimes, how young you were when the world changed. Not much older than Frankie is now. Suddenly thrust into an entirely different world." Dad looked up, his eyes meeting Sam's. "What you did just now, for Frankie, that was a nice thing to do."

Shrugging, Sam dried his legs. "Frankie's a good kid. I don't mind hanging out with him."

"You remind me of your mother that way. You do that a lot, actually. Darien saw the world differently. She used to say that I needed to stop focusing on my to-do list and take the time to enjoy my coffee." Again, Dad paused, looking away and swallowing hard. Then he smiled. "She would love the idea of you running your own restaurant. She would be proud of you."

Sam felt his chest growing tight at the thought of his mother seeing him now, all grown up. "Really?"

"Really." Tom leaned out to hook an arm around Sam, giving him a quick hug before stepping back. "Now let's go kick some Green ass on the course."

Rolling his eyes at his father's back, Sam decided that he was going to make sure that Frankie and Danny won.

It would be good for Dad to lose.