Given how many times Tennant has given Kate advice, I would love for Kate to give Tennant advice again (I know she gave advice after the Maggie situation, but that was so long ago). I would love to see her give Jane advice regarding how to be supportive or how to deal with someone you love choosing a dangerous path when you didn't expect it (or really anything but this is the only thing I could think of at this time).

“Damn it.” The knock on Kate’s office door couldn’t have come at a worse time. She’s neck deep in a series of spreadsheets, and if she loses her place it’ll be hard to get back into the zone. She’s comparing financial data across five shell companies, and she’s holding a lot of the information in her head as she scrolls. She has her door closed, which everyone in the hallway knows means “if you care at all for your life and limbs, you will not dare to disturb.”

Someone had better be fucking dying.

“Yes,” she snaps, not bothering to change her tone, to act less pissed. Serves whoever this is right. The door opens, and Kate doesn’t take her eyes off her computer, still scrolling. “What is it?”

“Bad time?”

Kate’s eyes snap up. What the—it’s Tennant. Tennant’s never come to her office before, all of their business happening at NCIS and all of their personal interactions happening off base or during sidewalk run-ins. Kate blinks, wondering what brings the SAC all the way over here.

A sudden burst of panic floods her, and she grips the edge of her desk, legs tensing in case she has to jump up and run. “Is Lucy okay?”

“She’s fine,” Tennant says quickly, holding up both hands. “Everyone’s fine.”

Kate blows out a huge breath. Okay, maybe she should work on not letting her anxiety cause her to overreact so much. Also maybe she should learn to grow wings and simply fly to and from work to combat climate change. Both seem equally likely.

“I was hoping to get some advice,” Tennant says, and Kate’s brain starts spinning a million miles an hour. What could Tennant possibly want her advice about? What on earth does Kate know more about than Tennant does? Maybe something legal? But Kate doesn’t practice and has no idea what Hawaiian laws are like. If it was something work related she’d have said “input” rather than advice. Tennant somehow knows as much about the DC political infighting as Kate does, despite not having been there for a baker’s dozen years. Kate’s pretty sure Tennant wouldn’t come to her for advice about Lucy—they’ve all come to respect the unspoken firewall.

What could Kate possibly have to offer Jane Tennant?

“Um, sure,” Kate says. “I mean, of course. I’m not sure I can…but, yeah. Yes. Anytime.”

Tennant gives her a little smile, like maybe she could read all of those thoughts on Kate’s face. “Can I buy you lunch?”

Kate nods, checking the time on her computer and seeing that it’s after one in the afternoon. Her stomach belatedly growls, and Tennant laughs. Kate saves her documents and grabs her purse, locking her computer and her office door, and following Tennant out of the building.

This is interesting. It’s going to be a long conversation, then, if they’re leaving work. It’s maybe more personal than professional, if Tennant wants to do it off base. She doesn’t have any of her team in tow, so it’s not something they’re all wondering about. She and Tennant have given each other coffees, but have never taken each other out for a meal before.

It doesn’t fit any pattern, and Kate’s curiosity is piqued. To say the least.

They walk out the front gate, and Tennant gestures towards the row of food trucks that tends to park there, hoping to tempt people like them out into the public sphere with the smells of roasting meat and engine exhaust. “I thought we could get something and take it somewhere quiet.”

So, something very personal, then.

Kate wonders if it’s about Maggie.

It must be.

“Sure,” she says, straightening her spine. She knows a little about what’s happened to Maggie since she left Oahu, but not much, and she’s not sure what she can share.

Tennant leads her towards a truck that makes what Lucy would call “hippie bowls,” and Kate mindlessly orders something with quinoa, brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, and chickpeas doused in curry. Most of her brain is sorting intel on Maggie into mental folders, a technique she’d used constantly at DIA. It’s been a minute, but it comes back to her easily.

Absolutely can’t share; Fine to share; Risky but could be okay; Wouldn’t share with anyone but Tennant; Makes My Stomach Hurt But If Someone’s Life Is At Imminent Risk Then I Might. The old folders come back to life, and she shifts each tiny kernel of information into its proper location.

They get their food, and Kate follows Tennant into a park, where they settle on a sun-dappled bench underneath gently swaying palm trees.

“So,” Tennant says, and Kate tenses. There isn’t very much in the “Fine to share” folder, and Tennant is clearly looking for more than a tidbit. “How’s your food?”

Kate hasn’t taken a bite yet. “It’s good.”

Tennant raises an eyebrow, and Kate feels her mouth quirking up. Right. CIA agent. Noticing stuff is kind of her thing. Kate takes a bite, feeling Tennant’s amused smile on her. “Okay,” she says around a mouthful of hot chickpeas. “It’s actually good.”

“Glad,” Tennant says. “Mine too.”

Kate would scoff if that wouldn’t send quinoa straight down her windpipe. Tennant hasn’t touched hers yet either.

FIA agent. Getting better at noticing things.

“Alex decided where he wants to go to college,” Tennant says, and Kate nearly chokes.

“Oh,” she coughs. “Wow. That’s great.”

Is this a small-talk warm up, or was Kate totally off-target here? Is this about college advice? Maybe Alex is going to Northwestern? Maybe Tennant wants Kate to take him shopping for winter clothes to survive Chicago?

“He applied to the Naval Academy.”

Kate blinks a few more times. “What happened to baseball?”

Tennant shrugs. “I have no idea,” she says. “He’s not exactly an open book these days.”

Kate nods. She remembers how secretive she was as a teenager. Of course, she had strict, religious parents and she was secretly a raging lesbian who was pretty sure she was a democrat, but she figures some of it comes with the territory. Hormones, all that shit.

Reason one billion that Kate’s not interested in having kids. Putting in all that work for someone that, as soon as they can wipe their own butt, starts to resent you? Yeah, hard pass.

“He’s decided to go,” Tennant says, dropping her eyes, and Kate realizes this isn’t small talk. Tennant’s nervous, and Kate wonders why on earth she’s come to her instead of to Kai. Kai served; Kate didn’t. What advice could Kate have for the mom of—oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

Shit.

“This is about my brother,” Kate says softly, and Tennant nods, her eyes already soft and a little wet.

“I know you don’t like to talk about it,” Tennant says, fast but so soft. “So you can tell me to get lost if you want, but…”

Kate should. Talking about Noah is nearly impossible, even with Lucy. It hurts so much, and she cries every time, and she’s not that excited about the possibility of crying in front of Tennant. Although she does appreciate that Tennant brought her here, away from her coworkers and out of anyone else’s sightline. The only things that can see them are the trees, the coconuts, the blades of grass.

Kate wishes Lucy were here. She tries to pretend like she is, like she can feel Lucy’s hand coming—hard and warm—to grip her thigh. A gentle brush across her back, the little affirming sound Lucy makes in the back of her throat when Kate’s upset. Her hair would be blowing in the gentle wind, maybe a few strands getting stuck in her mouth, but she wouldn’t brush them away, completely and utterly focused on Kate’s comfort.

She pictures Lucy’s big eyes, so understanding and caring and loving, the way Lucy’s proximity always makes her feel safe.

“It’s okay,” she says, digging her fork into the food she’s no longer hungry for. “What do you want to know?”

“I—I don’t even know if I know, to be honest,” Jane says, her shoulders more slumped than usual. She doesn’t look like a SAC, or a CIA agent, or a certified badass. She looks like Kate’s mom did the first time Noah shipped off overseas.

Small. Afraid. Weary. Utterly and completely fucking terrified.

Kate thinks about what she would do if it were Lucy who was looking at her like that, and then she does it. Well, a modified version of it. She’s not about to pull Tennant onto her lap and kiss her head and whisper reassurance into her ear. But she would reach out to offer physical comfort, so she rests a hand on Jane’s arm while Jane struggles to find the words to describe her amorphous feelings.

“I’m proud of him,” Jane says. “Wanting to serve his country. He’s smart and strong and kind, I know they’re lucky to have him. And the navy tends to be pretty safe, and I imagine he’d move pretty quickly to a supervisory or analyst role, but…”

“But there’s no guarantee,” Kate says softly. Her brother was smart too, and strong, and kind, and he was torn apart in Taji before he got his promotion out of danger, before he could start his relatively cushy life of service without sacrifice.

“How did you live with the fear? Before?”

Kate purses her lips, trying to remember. Everything before feels like a dream, like she only woke up to the harsh real world the day the phone rang.

“I was young,” she finally offers. “I think…you never think it’ll happen to you, you know? It’s always someone else—someone else’s brother, someone else’s child. Every time I’d see something in the news, or hear about something happening in Iraq, it didn’t feel real. It was like seeing a car wreck on the freeway; you’re like, ‘oh that’s so sad, I hope they’re okay’ but it never feels like it has anything to do with you, even though you’re driving on the same highway. It was always like, ‘that couldn’t happen to him. He’ll be fine.’”

Jane almost laughs, even though Kate can tell she’s so sad. “So…denial?”

Kate does laugh. “Pretty much.”

Jane’s quiet for a long moment. “And then, after…”

Kate shrugs, flipping over a brussels sprout. “I don’t think there’s any point in preparing for after,” she says softly. “It’s worse than you could imagine. There’s no…there’s no preparation that will make it anything less than the worst day of your life. The…the end of the best thing in your life, the end of ever being like, fully happy.” She blinks quickly, her gaze down at her food. She swallows a few times.

It’s not that she thinks she’s fooling Jane, that Jane doesn’t know she’s fending off tears, but it’s still important to her to wrestle herself under control, and she appreciates that Jane lets her do it.

“If it happens, no amount of preparation will soften it,” she finally says. “Thinking about it, and talking about it with him, and worrying about it—all that’ll do is hurt your relationship with him, push him away.”

She bites her lip, and tries to ignore the thought that she’s the last person who should be giving parenting advice. Her own parents are kind of shit, and she’s the first to admit she’s not a great people person.

“If I have any advice for you, it would be to just…savor the time you have with him. Be there. Because odds are he’ll be fine, and then you’ll have great memories of these next few years, and if he’s not…” She swallows again, and this time it’s Jane who touches her arm. It’s not the same as if Lucy were here, if Lucy did it, but Kate lets herself pretend. She pretends Lucy’s plastered to her back, resting her head on the back of Kate’s neck, rubbing supportive circles up and down her spine, like after Kate has a nightmare. “I wish I’d spent more time with Noah before he went,” she says, her voice thick. “I was so distracted by my own stuff, by extra curriculars and getting into college, and then by school stuff. I wish I’d taken every opportunity to be with him. Called more, written more, visited him on base more. I wish I had more memories with him.”

She imagines Lucy pressing a loving, caring kiss to her shoulder, wordlessly telling Kate that she loves her, that regret is okay but guilt isn’t, that even though Kate wishes she had done things differently, she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Daniel doesn’t want him to go,” Jane says. “I don’t know what I want. But I guess that doesn’t really matter.”

Kate shrugs, managing a hint of a wry smile. “Annoying how they grow up to be their own people, I guess.”

Jane laughs, and Kate politely pretends she didn’t hear how thick it was, that she hasn’t noticed Jane not eating.

It’s a quiet for a while, but Kate feels like Jane has another thing to ask. The wind rustles the palm fronds, and Kate watches as two little birds fight over what seems like a prime spot for seeds, about thirty feet in front of her.

“What about Julie?” Jane finally asks. “How do I…what do I tell Julie?”

Tears immediately come to Kate’s eyes, and she knows that no amount of blinking is going to hold them back this time.

“Tell her it’s okay to be scared,” she manages to say, her voice cracking. “Tell her she can love him and be mad at him at the same time. Tell her to call him more. Tell her he’s going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to lie to her,” Jane says, but Kate shakes her head.

“She’s old enough that she knows,” Kate says. “She knows what could happen, but she won’t believe it. She’ll be so scared all the time, but it’ll also be a car wreck on the highway. You can…you can let her have whatever comfort there is. Let her stay a kid.”

Jane nods, and Kate tries to work on her breathing, to control herself enough to say one last thing. The hardest thing, something she’d sob during even if she were telling Lucy, safe in the little warm bubble of their bed, the lights off, Lucy’s skin soft and loving against hers.

She’s crying as she says it, but she gets it out, and that’s what matters. “And if it does happen, if he doesn’t come home…just…please still love Julie.”

“I—” Jane seems to catch herself, like she was about to give a knee-jerk reaction and then stopped when the words were already halfway out of her mouth. “Why…I…”

Kate doesn’t have to be an FBI agent to know what she’s thinking. What the hell? Of course I would…how could I not? Why would I stop…? What would Julie have to do with…?

She can see the realization settling over Jane’s features. Jane’s eyes get even softer, and a tear finally breaks through and runs down her cheek. She reaches out like she wants to gather Kate into her, to cradle her like Kate is Julie, like she’s still the broken, lost twenty-year-old she was then.

Jane pulls her hands back into her lap, and Kate wonders what that would have been like, to be hugged like that. Lucy holds her, but that’s different. Lucy’s (thankfully) not trying to be her mom, not tempted to give Kate what her parents did.

Lucy tries to fill her up, to surround her with so much love that she can see clearly that her parents aren’t well, that they were irrevocably broken by Noah’s death. That it wasn’t anything Kate did wrong, or Kate could have done. Lucy loves Kate fiercely enough that Kate is starting to admit that maybe she’s worthy of being loved, that maybe there’s enough humanity left in her. That maybe Noah’s death is the worst thing that ever happened to her but doesn’t have to mean that she’s never happy again, that no one will ever love her again, that she can never unfasten the armor around her heart again.

Lucy doesn’t hug her because her mom doesn’t; Lucy hugs her and it makes Kate realize that she’s getting more and more okay, even without her mom.

Jane looks like she wants to hug her defiantly, like she wants to punch Kate’s parents in the face, to rock Kate to sleep and throw her a bridal shower and walk her down the aisle.

“I’m so sorry, Kate,” she says, and Kate nods. “You know, when I said you were family, I meant it. Anytime you—and Lucy—want a family Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or birthday, or even just dinner, I hope you know you don’t need an invitation. We’ll always want you with us.”

“Thank you,” Kate says, and she means it. She finally takes a few bites of her lunch; it’s cold, but it’s still good. She realizes she’s still hungry, and also she’s certainly due back at her office, but she doesn’t move to stand up. “And you, too. You know, when he’s at school, or on tour, and Julie’s with her dad, we’ll always have a glass of wine and a couch for you.”

Jane smiles at her, something that’s both a grimace and almost a laugh. “I’m sure I’ll be taking you up on that.”

Kate lets her mouth twitch up. “I hope you do.”