As Long As It Takes

She wrote to him, but her letters were the usual small talk- the baby, Morris (she kept that to a bare minimum), her lack of a job and the joy she felt at finally having become a mother.

Maybe my mother was right, she'd joked.

She never wrote about what had happened between them.

What was she supposed to say?

Dear Jack,

I miss you so much. Sometimes it's so bad that I have to hide out in the garden, just so that Morris won't hear or see me crying…

God knows she'd tried to put it out of her mind, their kiss, his declaration of love and her echoed response, but at night, when the charade of getting through the day was finally over, she would collapse onto the bed and try desperately to hide her tears.

He wrote to her. Morris had been all too eager to give out their new London address to anyone who cared to ask.

His letters were always brief, and part of her longed for him to stop writing, because then just maybe the ache in her heart would go away.

Dear Chloe,

How are you and the baby? (He never asked about Morris, she noticed.) I wish I could be there to see you both, but work is… well, work is work, as I'm sure you remember. I'm so pleased that you managed to escape it before it sucked you in. I know you've lost a lot from that job.

He never continued with that train of thought. He didn't need to; they both knew what he was trying to say.

I understand you are busy, you must have your hands full with Amy. Thank you so much for the pictures you sent; she really is beautiful.

Just like her mother. He never said that, of course.

He always ended the letter with 'take care'. Never 'I love you', or 'I miss you', or even 'I will come for you. I meant what I said.' She'd never given him cause to think that Morris was messing her about; he had no reason to go to her. He wasn't a part of that life any more. Or, more to the point, she had left her old life behind, a life he was a part of, a life that had taken him over.

As he sealed the letter, he would whisper her name quietly to himself, and close his eyes against the build up of tears threatening behind them.

He too never spoke of their final night together, the night before Morris had taken her from him and he'd let her walk away. What was he supposed to say?

Dear Chloe

I miss you. I wish to God that I had never let you walk away. You were the only thing that made sense to me in those dark hours since I returned from China, and I let you go. How can I beg you to come back to me when I gave you no reason to stay?

He never sent those letters.

…

Amy was crying.

It was four am and Amy was crying like she had done for the last three nights in a row. Chloe felt the tears stinging her eyes and she groggily pushed back the covers to go and tend to her daughter.

"No, love. I'll go." Morris placed a hand on her back. "Stay here and try and get some sleep."

Chloe heard him leave the bedroom and walk quickly down the short hallway to their daughter's room. A light flicked on, blinding her temporarily, but somewhere in the hall a door shut, soon blotting out the glare. Gradually the sobs subsided and Chloe thought she could hear Morris singing a lullaby.

Closing her eyes, she buried her head once more under the pillow.

It didn't last long.

She didn't know if it was her imagination, or lack of sleep playing tricks on her, but Amy's sobs were becoming louder, closer, and more agitated. Groaning, Chloe threw back the covers to see Morris pacing around their room, the screaming baby in his arms showing no sign of quietening down anytime soon.

"I don't know what's wrong with her," he muttered as he started his sixth circuit of the room. "I checked but she doesn't need changing, she cannot be hungry as you only just fed her an hour ago." His voice was tinged with annoyance and Chloe could tell he was close to losing his temper. "This is the third night now," he added, almost accusingly.

"It's not my fault," Chloe muttered, holding out her arms for the baby. Morris handed her over gladly. As Chloe rocked her daughter and willed her to sleep, Morris walked over to the window and peered out at the street below.

"I didn't say that," he said, his back to the room.

"You didn't have to."

"Maybe she's hot?"

"Morris, it's the middle of winter." Amy was still crying, her sobs having subsided to a dry hiccup but nonetheless loud.

He turned to face her and Chloe flinched at the resentment in his eyes. "I know that, love. The amount of clothes you insist she wears, it's no wonder she's hot, is it?"

Chloe bit her lip. She couldn't stand the look of distaste now masking his face, distaste at her and her daughter. Their daughter.

"I've had enough of this." He was moving away from the window and over to the wardrobe. Not bothering to switch on a light, he rummaged amidst the clothes until he found what he was looking for.

"Where are you going?" Chloe demanded.

Morris barely looked up as he threw items into the suitcase. "Out of here. I can't do this, love. God knows we tried."

"You can't just leave."

He laughed bitterly. "Why not?"

"Amy needs you." Chloe moved the baby to her right shoulder. "What kind of man walks out on his six month old child?"

Morris paused. "Okay, fine. So I'm a coward. You knew that and you still chose to come here with me."

"I thought you'd changed," Chloe whispered.

"Well, I obviously haven't, have I?"

"Will you keep your voice down?"

"Why? So she doesn't start crying again?" Morris heaved the now full suitcase to the floor and made to leave the room. "Honestly, love, I don't want to do this."

"Then don't." But there was no conviction in her voice and he knew it.

"Do you love me, Chloe?" He didn't wait for her to respond. "You see, I don't think you do. And I don't love you, not like I used to. Not like I should," he added quietly, a hint of guilt in his tone.

She didn't bother to contradict him.

She'd lost count of the number of nights she had feigned tiredness, just so that she didn't have to make love to him. In her mind, it wasn't making love, it was just sex. How could you make love if it was never there in the first place?

"I'll send you money, for Amy."

Chloe realised he was halfway down the stairs and was now shouting to be heard. Amy had started up again, her little lungs giving all they had.

"Don't bother," she managed to shout back, just before the door slammed shut and she was left alone.

…

Someone was talking. Jack vaguely remembered that he was in the situation room, listening to Bill Buchanan run through the day's events.

He couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

It was eight pm and he was tired. Or at least, he had been, until something had caused him to sit bolt upright in his chair, attracting the curious stares of the other agents in the room.

"Everything okay, Jack?"

Bill's voice brought him momentarily back down to reality, as he realised where he was.

It was not the place he needed to be.

Jack mumbled an excuse and got to his feet. Bill didn't question him as he silently left the room.

He drove back to his apartment and checked his answer phone for messages. There was one from Kim, asking whether or not he would like to join her and Chase for dinner at the weekend. A couple of messages announced that his dry cleaning was ready, and could he please come and pick it up before they gave it to charity. The final message was from an international number.

…

A noise outside the house brought Chloe out of her dreamless sleep. For a second she thought that Morris had come back, and in his drunken stupor had gone and lost his key.

That thought quickly dispelled itself, as her mind slowly began to fathom the noise.

She was almost at the foot of the stairs when Amy started to cry.

"Baby girl, sshh, Mommy's here," she whispered, tiptoeing gently back up to the upper level of the house. The cries lapsed as the baby was lifted into caring yet tired arms, and rocked gently. Whatever had caused the noise outside the house lay forgotten, until the knocking on the front door started up again.

"Who can it be?" she murmured to Amy. The baby offered her a toothless smile.

Highly aware of the danger of opening the door to a potential stranger, Chloe placed the door on the latch before sliding it open and peering through the gap. She could make out a solitary suitcase standing on the front step. She sighed, realising that he first suspicions had been confirmed.

"Morris, I'm leaving it open," she called tiredly. "Come in when you've finished… whatever you're doing." She removed the safety catch and turned back towards the stairs.

She heard the door open and close behind her, footsteps on the tiled floor and the soft thud of the suitcase as it landed beside its owner. Still she didn't turn around.

"Come on, baby, let's get you back to sleep." Chloe placed her baby back into her cot, relieved that for once she had fallen asleep in her arms. She replaced the tiny pink blanket, smoothing it over until she was sure Amy would be warm enough. She took a minute just to look at her daughter, silently promising her that no matter what, she would make sure she was safe.

Chloe left the door slightly ajar and walked back downstairs, resigned to the fact that she would not be getting any sleep that night.

To her surprise, the suitcase had been propped up against one wall, not merely discarded in the centre of the hallway as she had expected. Shrugging, she peered in every darkened room and she made her way into the kitchen, not at all worried when she didn't at first see Morris. He was probably in the kitchen, waiting to grovel his apology.

"If you've come here to apologise, I don't want to hear it," she muttered, flicking on the light as she reached her destination.

A chair scraped behind her and she heard footsteps approaching the sink, where she stood waiting for the kettle to boil.

"Don't touch me, Morris, I swear to God."

His hands hesitated above her shoulders. She was so close, yet so very far.

"He hurt you."

The mug slipped out of Chloe's fingers and crashed to the floor, showering the tiles with a million white shards.

"Where is he?"

"Just leave it, okay?" Chloe managed to find her voice. She gripped the edge of the worktop for support, her legs dangerously close to collapsing from beneath her.

"What did he do to you?" Jack's tone was level, but she could hear the anger behind it, hear him struggling to maintain his temper. She didn't move when his hands went finally to her shoulders, turning her gently around until she was facing him.

"He left me."

"Son of a-"

"Please, don't. It's fine. I'm fine. We're fine," she muttered, struggling out of his grasp and crouching down to pick up the broken china. "I don't know why you came."

"I came because… because I told you I would." His voice became gentle. "I told you I would come for you."

"H-how did you know?"

He shrugged. "I just felt that something wasn't right."

"Oh."

He crouched down beside her, took her small hand in his. Chloe blinked back the tears.

"Leave this now. You need to sleep."

She didn't argue as he helped her to her feet and led her in the direction of the stairs. Wordlessly she pointed out her bedroom, and he gently pushed the door open, guiding her slowly towards the bed.

Jack pulled back the covers and waited until she had settled before smoothing the quilt back up over her. She was asleep almost instantly.

…

Chloe's eyes flew open. It was still dark in the room, and she was alone.

"Jack?"

Nothing. She had dreamed it, after all. It was like a kick in the gut. Doubling up against the pain, Chloe let the tears fall freely down her cheeks.

It was then she realised that the house was unusually silent.

Taking a breath, she strained her ears for the sound of Amy's cries, panicking when she couldn't hear them.

"I'm coming, baby, hang on," she murmured, moving quickly out of the bedroom and down towards the nursery.

Chloe picked up her speed when she spotted the door to her daughter's room wide open, the light spilling out into the hall.

He was stood with his back to her. The crib was empty, and Chloe felt her heart leap into her mouth. Silently, she leant against the doorframe, waiting.

He was murmuring something to Amy, words Chloe couldn't quite make out. The baby was gurgling happily, a sign that she would soon be asleep.

"She is so beautiful," he said suddenly, forcing Chloe out of her reverie. He turned to face her, the baby still cooing softly in his arms. "Just like her mother."

The lump in Chloe's throat made it suddenly difficult to breathe.

"I'm going to take care of you, Chloe. I should never have let you walk away."

His words, spoken with such passion, were her undoing.

"I missed you so much," she choked, before the tears overwhelmed her once more. She watched while Jack replaced Amy in her cot, before closing the gap between them with two short strides.

His kiss was just as she remembered it; gentle yet searing, robbing the very breath from her lungs. Again they found themselves curled up on the floor, although as with the last time, neither could remember this happening. She kissed him with everything she had left, emotions coming alive that she feared had abandoned her in the parking lot of the hotel.

"You came back for me," she whispered, when he eventually pulled away for air.

"I think we found each other," he whispered back, tracing the outline of her lips with his fingers.

"Amy… I don't know if I can take her out of the country. I mean, what if Morris…"

"You're her mother," he said soothingly. "Morris chose to do what he did." Jack leaned his forehead against hers. "What do you want to do?"

Chloe didn't have to think about it. "I want to come home with you, to Los Angeles."

"Then that's what we'll do."

"What about you? It could take a while to get Amy cleared to leave."

He smiled. "I'll stay right here. I'm not leaving you again."

She leaned in to kiss him once more, the words of the song playing softly through her head, words she thought she had forgotten.

Together again
It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end
If you can make a promise If it's one that you can keep, I vow to come for you
If you wait for me and say you'll hold
A place for me in your heart.