Piers could name half a dozen guys, straight off the top of his head, who would kill to be in his position. If they knew. Which they didn't. It wasn't the first time he'd had to keep a relationship secret, only this time, he wasn't attempting to pull the wool over his parents' eyes, but the eyes of those who worked closely with him. And her.
Fraternisation amongst the ranks wasn't unheard of, but it was generally discouraged. They had to be subtle. Emails laced with double meanings and snatched kisses in empty rooms. Fleeting moments between missions and meetings. Even their dates were carefully orchestrated that they could easily pass them off as chance encounters should anyone catch them. A hotdog stand in the park could be as romantic as a candlelit dinner if you had the right attitude.
She admired his skills; he admired her ass. When she talked of her experiences, he listened with rapt attention. On the evenings they spent together, passion abounded until the time came to say goodnight; they would never risk an overnight stay. Once and only once did Piers pose the question: "Will we ever be open?" But when it was met by a tight lipped smile, he vowed never to ask again. Que sera sera.
The night before Piers shipped out to China coincided with their six month anniversary. To mark the occasion - congratulations and I'll miss you - they hopped aboard a train going north and found themselves a quiet carriage. Jill supplied the basket of sandwiches and Piers brought the wine, and as the train rattled along the tracks, they ate and drank and made professions of love.
"Don't get hurt."
"Don't forget me."
An anonymous motel close to the station provided them with the privacy and security needed to make good on their vows and they made love until they succumbed to exhaustion. Before first light, they were on another train, going south once more and he got off one stop before her with a, "See you soon," and an, "I'll be thinking of you," in response. He waved as the train pulled away and she blew a kiss that he pretended to catch and put in his pocket.
Chris mentioned her in passing and Piers was sure his guilt showed on his face, but then someone shot at him and everything else was forgotten. Her name only came up one more time after that, prefaced by an apology and murmur of regret as fire spread through his veins and his humanity disintegrated. They knew this could happen. If not to him, then to her, and both were prepared for the eventuality. Or so they thought.
The news was delivered in sombre tones; they had lost one of their own however the mission was branded a success. Jill did her grieving in private and blamed the darkened circles under her eyes on all the paperwork involved. If anyone believed otherwise, they were too polite to say. There was good reason relationships between operatives were discouraged and this was just one. But life went on and so did Jill. Piers' name joined a list that shouldn't have existed on a memorial that shouldn't have been necessary and on the day of the dedication ceremony, a lonely tear slipped down her cheek, unnoticed by all but one.
"I knew," Chris told her, his expression unreadable and her initial reaction was denial. Then he opened his arms for a hug, she remembered that he'd lost Piers too. Gone but not forgotten.