A/N — we're getting close to the end of this story, which means that (per the usual), I am procrastinating on posting the last few chapters. Gah! Lol. I'm sorry, I know it's annoying. If it makes it any better, I do promise to finish. :) xoxo — kals

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Chapter 23

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Frankie tossed the hacky sack in his left hand, chair up on two legs. Sasha was waiting for the chair to tip over, taking half the tent with him. Shannon's designated "office" at the Poconos Safe Zone was no bigger than Sasha's cabin on the Nathan James. Two people were definitely a squeeze. She glanced up, measuring the distance between Frankie's feet and the computer. "If you kick over the monitor, I'm going to make you rebuild it from scratch."

"Sweet! I'll let Green know. He loves electronic shit." Still, Frankie did drop his chair back onto four legs. "Why are you here anyway?"

"I'm trying to figure out a way to get a batch of the cure to Venezuela without the Madura regime finding out and taking control of the delivery," Sasha muttered, frowning at the screen of her computer. Well, more accurately, Shannon's computer but Sasha had commandeered it upon arriving here two hours ago.

"Pablo?" Frankie suggested.

Sasha did look up then, giving Frankie an exasperated glance. He knew, just as well as she did, that Pablo was out of service, still dealing with the Gispert fallout. Unfortunately, with Pablo in Washington and Damien dead., Sasha was sorely lacking in assets anywhere in Central America. Sasha sighed as she considered who else might have a plausible reason to go to Caracas and came up blank. Number one on her list of priorities was going to be the recruitment of new agents, both inside and outside the United States.

Frankie apparently felt the need to redeem himself. "If Pablo's a no-go, send Marco."

Sasha had considered Marco. But getting him from Panama meant crossing Columbia, and Marco was basically a child without a plausible reason to be moving cargo. Perhaps she could arrange to have the doses moved by boat, with some kind of frozen fish disguising the coolers that the cure required. Marco might be able to pass for a dumb kid who turned to fishing when the pandemic got bad. She made a note to ask Shannon about the logistics when she returned from her meeting with Christine Slattery about vaccine distribution here at the safe zone. Sasha really should be helping right now but the idea of listening to one more person thank her — as if Sasha was the one who developed the cure herself — was going to push her over the edge.

Frankie dropped his hacky sack. "Damn it." He sighed. "Why are you really here, Sasha? You could have done all of this from DC."

She paused, sentence half typed, considering the question. She had a flip answer, of course, one that Frankie would probably even accept. But one thing that she had realized over the past few days was how much her team meant to her, and she didn't want to fall into the trap of letting them think she didn't care. She didn't want to be Karl, realizing too late how much he had lost. Sasha thought about how Frankie had created a college account for Emma and Jason's nieces, even helped Danny invest and grow his savings, never admitting to anyone else that it was involved. He was a good guy — a solid man — the kind she could call up after ten years of not talking and he would still help with whatever she needed.

And at some point they were going to have to address the tension between them.

Between the chaos upon their return to the Nathan James with Gispert and the Nathan James being ordered back to Norfolk, there had been no time to talk about the Superdome. No, that wasn't quite right. The truth was that Sasha had been waiting for the right moment, one that never came. Because what could she say to make Frankie feel better about leaving Sasha and Kara in the hands of the Sinaloa Cartel? He already knew — they both knew — that he made the right choice. But knowing that you made the right decision doesn't help when people you love are hurt by it all the same.

That was an emotion Sasha understood all too well.

It was, frankly, why she was hiding in this room rather than watch the reunion going on between the crew and their families. Finishing her sentence, Sasha closed the computer window. "Would you believe me if I said that I wanted to see that they were okay for myself?"

Frankie stopped just as he was about to toss the ball. "Why Sasha Cooper, I think I just heard you express a genuine emotion. It must be the Captain rubbing off on you." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You two going to make a go of it?"

Sasha thought about Tom asking her to move in with him. Part of her wanted to do it, make the plunge, yet the rest of her remained cautious, unable to let go of all the what-ifs. "Maybe," she admitted to Frankie. "Tom mentioned getting a house together in Alexandria."

"Serious," Frankie replied. "Is this the point where you dump him on his ass?"

Swallowing a snort — Frankie could be rather charming — Sasha admitted, "I'm thinking about saying yes."

"Very mature of you," Frankie observed. "First Green and now you. I hope that neither one of you thinks that I'll be joining you in happily wedded bliss."

Sasha actually laughed. "Believe me, it had not crossed my mind." Although, now that Frankie had mentioned it. "But what is the deal with you and Nina? I saw the two of you getting cozy at the White House reception."

Frankie shifted in his seat, voice gruff when he spoke. "She's crazy but I kind of like her. Anders offered me a spot training the teams at Quantico. I figure that Quantico to Norfolk is do-able."

Funny, that sounded a lot like something Danny said six months ago.

Aloud, she simply said. "Totally do-able." She waited, before deciding that now was as good a time as any. "About the Superdome, Benz, I know that you're beating yourself up and it needs to stop. You did your job at the Superdome, Benz. That was to protect Rachel. Full stop."

"Yeah, and that job sucked," Frankie replied. There was silence as they stared at each other, a silent apology made and accepted — on both sides. "Next time, Cooper, you can be the one to run away and hide on the ship."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "And deal with Green in freakout mode? Not a chance in hell. I pick Foster. She's one cool customer. Think I could lure her away from Rachel?"

Frankie groaned. "He was worse than Halsey, practically climbing the walls. And, no, I don't think Kara wants to work for you. Mostly because you only want to hire her so that Tom can't get to you through Danny and Kara."

"That's not the only reason," Sasha objected, before deciding that a change in topic was warranted. "Anyway, I answered your question but you haven't told me why you're here in this tent. Aren't you supposed to be having a reunion with your fiancée? Or, at least, keeping her away from Kara?"

Frankie sighed dramatically. "Can you believe that Rebecca was two-timing me with some doctor from Connecticut? She said the kid isn't even mine. Wohl will be devastated. He had images of Kara and Rebecca forming some kind of baby club with his wife."

"Are you worried that Danny will take off with Rebecca again?" Sasha asked.

"Ha! Danny's not that stupid.." Frankie began, stopping at the look Sasha gave him. "Think we should go make sure he's not dead?"

Sasha stood. "Probably a good idea."

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She spotted Tom near the vaccination clinic. She sidled up. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Mike wanted to see his family," Tom murmured absently and she abruptly realized that he was out of uniform. She was too, of course, but Sasha only wore her uniform when required — namely when she was in front of Congress or on a ship — preferring to stay under the radar. This was the first time Sasha had seen Tom out of uniform in years and he looked different. Younger, perhaps. No, that wasn't it, he looked more relaxed. As though in shedding his uniform, he also shed a portion of the responsibility that came with it.

She watched, silently, as a young family approached the vaccine checkpoint. Christine Slattery said something, putting the woman at ease. Christine reached forward, taking the toddler into her arms while Doc Rios swabbed and then vaccinated the woman and her two older children. When it was the toddler's turn, Christine pulled three lollipops out of her pocket, the crying dying down almost instantly in favor of sucking on the pops.

"Christine is very good at this," she murmured.

"Hm?" Tom's attention must have been elsewhere, because he took a moment to respond. "Oh, Christine? She's good with people. She always has been. Darien used to hate this sort of thing."

"This sort of thing?" Sasha teased. "I was unaware you lived through a prior global pandemic."

Tom crossed his arms, glanced at her. "Smartass."

But Sasha wasn't quite done with the topic. "I'm not good at this sort of thing either, just so you know."

"Sasha," Tom's voice had a note of impatience, "you're the reason this event is taking place. You brought the doses."

True, but also not the point. "I meant that I'll never be like Christine. The woman in the front chit-chatting with the families or organizing the bake sale or...whatever Navy wives do."

Tom turned, eyebrows rising. "Navy wives? Are you proposing to me, Sasha Zaslavsky?"

Yes.

The word burst through Sasha's mind so unexpectedly that she just stood, gaping at Tom, unable to say a single word. Misunderstanding her silence, Tom rolled his eyes. "That was a joke, Sasha. No need to look like you're afraid I'm going to drag you off to a courthouse by your hair."

Her mind still swirling, it took Sasha a few moments to recall what they were talking about. "These people — the crew and their families — I know how much they mean to you, Tom. I would never want to do anything to compromise that."

"I never thought you would," Tom replied, his stiff posture relaxing. "After all, that's the reason you're here, right? Instead of staying in Washington for the Granderson testimony? To make sure that everyone was vaccinated?"

He understood because that's why he was here, no matter what either of them said.

"They'll record it," Sasha said, shrugging, as if watching a recording was anywhere near as good as being there in person. Sasha would have watched the recording anyway, poured over every minute. Still, there was something about seeing the way a person moved and spoke in person. There were so many little details that were either lost or appeared different when filtered through a machine. Even though she was technically conflicted out of the investigation and the Congressional sessions were closed, Sasha knew that nobody would have stopped her if she simply showed up to watch Amy Granderson be questioned under oath. There were certain benefits to being the head of the DIA. Yet here she was, hiding in the shadows and watching people she didn't know receive vaccinations. "Besides, she won't admit anything."

"No, she won't," Tom confirmed. "But that's not why you're here. You're here to make sure there isn't a problem. Because you care about what happens to these people."

"Yes," she admitted. "They were there when I needed them. I want to repay that, to the extent that I can."

"Admiral?" They both turned to see Miller, shifting from foot to foot. "There's a call for you, sir, from the White House. Apparently, it's important."

Fifteen minutes passed before Tom returned, his lips tight and his shoulders tense. When he spoke, his voice was low. "Mrs. Granderson was supposed to meet with her attorney this morning to prepare for her testimony. When she didn't appear, they sent someone to her house." He paused. "Single gunshot wound to the head."

Searching the crowd, Sasha found Alisha, busy helping Kara pass out packets of food. She looked happy, reaching out to hug someone as Sasha watched — no idea how her world was about to change. Because even though Alisha had been present during too many debriefings to believe her mother innocent, it had also been clear to Sasha that the younger woman loved her mother, flaws and all. "Has anyone told Alisha?"

"Not yet." Tom's lips tightened. "Normally I would ask Russ or maybe Christine to join me but, under the circumstances..."

Sasha straightened. "We can use the space where the Greens are staying. I'll just let Danny know that we need privacy."

Tom nodded sharply, taking a step forward, only to stop. "Remember when you said that you've never been good at what Navy wives do?"

Already focused on what they would say to Alisha, Sasha frowned. "Yes?"

"This," Tom replied, "is what Navy wives do. They help. Just like you're doing right now."