an. It's been a while, I'm still around, plugging away at all my un-finished fics as the inspiration sporadically comes, however I needed a palate cleanser, and something to get back into the swing of things. This is a scenario that has loosely been rolling around in my head for the better part of two years (maybe three, I can't believe it's approaching 2025 already). This will not be a long story likely less than 10,000 words, and it's strongly inspired by the scenario proposed in kals Bookworms series, and liberally borrowing canon/plot from that story. If you haven't read it yet, you're missing out.
As for this fic, here are the important facts:
• Sasha is DIA, she joined the ship in the Arctic, and blew the whistle on Doctor Scott, and Tophet's mission. Because of this the crew of Nathan James were enlisted to help find the primordial sample sooner, and the cure was found sometime in late-August.
• After Sasha blew the whistle, Captain Chandler temporarily lifted EMCON allowing crew members to contact their families, instructing them to isolate or enter pre-emptively established safe zones. Shortly after this communication, the outbreak of Red Flu in the United States began in earnest. There was an outbreak in the presidential bunker, killing several members of cabinet, the president, vice president, SECNAV, SECDEF, Vice Chair Amy Granderson, and various other department heads. Jeffrey Michener was sworn in while quarantining at Doak Stadium. Nathan James remained at EMCON until the primordial was found.
• Sasha volunteered and participated in the vaccination trials.
• After successfully creating the cure, Nathan James assisted distribution efforts until their scheduled mission end in mid-October.
• Tom and Sasha's romantic history remains the same as in the St. Augustine Universe, however if you have not read that fic, it's easy enough to pick up.
• Tom is still married to Darien; Sasha's husband is a cover and does not exist.
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Prologue
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A ship in port held a particular quality of silence. Every captain knew their vessel's sounds. The specific drone of engines, the distinct creak of bulkheads, the grind of bolts and hissing ventilation. Against her mooring at Pier 2 in Norfolk Naval Station, Nathan James was stationary. Tom paused in the p-way, his hand resting upon the bulkhead. He needed to finish the logs before meeting his family on the pier. The thought of seeing them made his chest tight, but something else pulled at him; a buzz in the currents that wouldn't be ignored.
The compulsion carried him past his in-port cabin, down the narrow corridor deep into officer country. The ship felt different now — emptier, yes, as crew members departed for leave — but she was making sounds.
Hollow ones.
He stopped at the last stateroom, paused, then pushed the door open.
The intimate space stretched bare before him.
Rack stripped clean.
Desk cleared.
No trace of the scent that had haunted, lingered, yet soothed; just the sterile tang of lemon and Lysol.
Crossing the threshold, Tom closed the door.
Moved to center.
Stopped. Stood inert, heart pounding . . .
He'd known this was coming.
But he never thought she'd leave without saying goodbye.