Steve took Michelle's elbow with one hand while his other was around her body, helping her up the steep steps to the private jet at the Amman airport. Sean walked behind them as all three prepared to leave the country that none of them ever wanted to set foot in again.

There had been no talk of the compound they had raided. Sean had used his credentials to gather information but both he and Steve were surprised that nothing had been mentioned, assuming it hadn't been discovered as of yet.

He sat Michelle down in a seat and began to strap her in when she took over the task herself.

"I got it," she said to him, pulling the belt across her waist.

He sat down in the seat across from her as Sean took the one across the way.

"Your Mom really came through with this," Steve said to her of the plane.

She looked up at him, barely showing her eyes from below the rim of the baseball hat she was wearing to cover her nearly shaved head. She had done what she could that morning with a razor and scissors, getting it evened out, but some areas were so short that there were cuts on her scalp from the knife. Out of anger she just took it all off.

She had stared at herself in the mirror not recognizing the person looking back at her. She was just a shadow of the woman who had left Hawaii almost a week earlier. The swelling around her eyes had gone down some, but the bruises and cuts on her lips and cheeks were still very raw and her eyes were blackened, looking far worse than they felt anymore. She couldn't face her girls looking like this, it frightened her, and she couldn't imagine what it would do to them.

"You ok?" Steve asked when she didn't reply. He reached across and put a hand on one of her scraped knees.

She looked down at it but not at him. "Yes."

"Do you want something for the pain before we take off?"

"No. I'm just tired."

Her voice was small and at times he had to lean in to hear what she was saying. He'd never had to do that before. "We'll be home soon," he said with a smile, stroking her knee.

"Home to what?" she snapped, "to be locked up in a house until my hair and face grow back to normal."

He was taken back by not only her words but also her tone. "We can go home to the new house," he said passively. "I told you before, I thought this is what you would have wanted."

"This is what you and my mother decided for me. I don't recall being asked."

"Then lets do it," he said, trying his best to accommodate her without making her angrier than she already was.

"I would have gone home if asked, but now that the subject has been broached that I look like a monster, I don't want too."

"Michelle," he quickly countered her, "you don't look like a monster." He reached for her hand but she moved it away before he could take it.

She looked across at him for the first time, "But I don't look presentable to bring home either, do I? I wouldn't want to frighten the girls," she said sarcastically.

He sat back feeling guilty for not consulting with her first, but he truly believed this is what she would have wanted. "I'm sorry. I should have talked to you first." He leaned forward again. "It wasn't meant as an insult."

"It certainly wasn't a compliment," she fired back.

She saw the pained look on his face, as the same feeling shot through her. "I'm sorry, Steve," she quickly recanted. "I'm just…" she shook her head, frustrated with herself, not knowing why she had attacked him like that. "I'm just nervous about going home I guess." She turned, looking out the window of the plane as they fired up the engines.

"It's ok," he replied softly, not reacting to her outburst, blaming himself for it. "You're right though, I should have talked to you first. I wasn't thinking."

Michelle looked over at him, knowing he was thinking, thinking only of her. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely as tears filled her eyes. "I'm scared Steve. Look at me," she took the hat off, exposing herself to him as she bent her head and began to sob. "The girls would be terrified of me."

He took his seat belt off and moved over to the seat next to her, putting his arms around her. "You went through hell, Michelle, and you survived. You'll heal. Your wounds will heal. Your hair will grow back. We'll get through this."

She leaned into him feeling the security of his embrace and heard the conviction in his voice, but there were wounds inside of her that she feared weren't going to heal as quickly as the physical ones. She felt that shame over knowing she had given in to them. Steve had got there in time to rescue her before she had confessed what she knew, but in her mind she had already given up. The beast had won.

He was dead now she presumed, knowing they had wiped out everyone there. Steve and she hadn't discussed it yet, but when she asked Sean while he had been examining her, he assured her they had cleaned house, which meant to Michelle that there were no survivors.

She felt the rumbling of the plane as it jetted down the runway, and then the smooth calmness as it lifted off the ground. She remembered feeling the same tense and nervous anxiety when she left Hawaii. She was on her way back to paradise but had the sinking feeling that she wasn't leaving hell behind like Steve had said. She was scared of the feelings that were coursing through her, leaning into him more as he whispered words of encouragement and love to her. He was her saving grace. She prayed those deep, embedded feelings she felt for him before she left Hawaii would return, because at the moment all she felt was numb.

Steve moved the armrest between them, holding her head down on his shoulder as she cried. Her mood swings were so unpredictable in the last twenty-four hours that he never knew what to expect from one second to the next. But he didn't falter in going with each one, allowing her the ability to verbally lash out if that's what she needed and also allowing her to use him as a punching bag. He could take it, knowing it really wasn't his Michelle that was criticizing him, it was the person who had been caged and beaten and raped, who was now angry and unpredictable. At the moment his wife was in his arms, even though she had been angry, she always ended up there in the end. He held steady, giving her what she needed, but underneath it all he too held a deep guilt over not giving her what she asked of him the night before. He was taking her retribution, considering it his punishment, questioning whether the mood swings would even exist if he had been able to fulfill her need. His guilt over that wasn't going away. He was working twice as hard in the other direction to accommodate his failure there.

He looked up over her shoulder at Sean who was seated across the isle. They made eye contact and he could see the concern in his friend's eyes, but as Sean looked away he also saw sympathy, not sure if that was directed at Michelle, or at him.

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Eight hours into their fifteen-hour flight home, Michelle slept on the fold down seats that converted into a bed. Steve and Sean sat at small table across from her after getting some much needed sleep of their own.

Sean laid out the pile of Passports and ID badges that he and Jordan had found at the compound. They each took a stack and began to go through them.

Sean held the second one he had up to Steve, "Wasn't this the guy that did most of the talking?"

He leaned over getting a closer view of the Passport photo. "Yes. He was the one that was going through the bag when Kono hit him."

"You know it's pretty incredible that we all came out of that with no injuries," Sean said to him.

Steve looked across at him shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it either. "I was thinking about that earlier. I know the people that were with us are all well trained, but you're right, that was nothing short of a miracle considering we were outnumbered three to one."

"Your team is impressive."

Steve smiled, "In more ways than one." He picked up another passport and his smile faded, looking at the picture of the man who had brought out Michelle. He stared at the photo as his eyes narrowed into two angry slits, recalling how he had touched his wife so callously in front of him, tormenting him on purpose. He felt his muscles tense up as his other hand reflexively formed into a tight fist, unable to stop the vision of him hurting his wife. He read the name out loud, "Asad Credan." He showed it to Sean. "This is the one that got away. I also think he's the one that hurt Michelle."

Sean showed him the US Passport in his hand that was issued seven years before the Jordanian one. "Taylor Ward. Same guy."

Steve looked at the picture and then at the one in his hand, "Son of a bitch. He's American?!"

"What do you mean he got away?" Sean asked him. "I thought we took em' all out."

"He got away from me and into a room, but not before I clipped him in the shoulder. From there he crawled into a tunnel. Danny was going to go after him, but I stopped him. It was too dangerous."

Sean nodded, agreeing with him. "I can't believe someone that grew up in the same country as we did could resort to this type of treason. It makes me sick."

Steve agreed with him this time. "I know, but it's happening, more and more. I especially don't get the ex-military defection. He obviously must have felt some kind of loyalty at one time or another or why would he have joined up."

"It's a mystery to me. I don't get it and I never will."

They both looked over in Michelle's direction as she stirred but continued to sleep. Steve felt another form of guilt hit from letting that one get away. He should have gone after him himself, if he knew then what he knew now, he would have. And when he caught him he would have slowly twisted his neck until he heard it snap, looking the prick in the eye until the very end, taunting him, making him suffer the same way he did Michelle.

"She's going to have a rough road ahead of her, both of you are," Sean said knowingly, already seeing the first signs from their earlier conversation.

Steve looked at her sympathetically; his emotions taking a one eighty turn in a split second. "I know. I need to work harder on being a better husband."

Sean looked at him as if that statement was the most peculiar one he'd ever heard. "What are you talking about? From what I've seen you're a pretty damn good husband."

He didn't feel it, especially after what had taken place the night before. "I need to be more sensitive to her needs, especially now. She's so fragile."

"Hey," he said firmly, hearing the same guilt in his voice that he heard from the earlier discussion between he and Michelle. "None of this was your fault. She's going to need help, yes, that's for certain. She's going to go through depression, anger, guilt and even denial, but don't let her take you down with her."

Steve looked across at him, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I've dealt with post traumatic war injuries. I've seen what can happen when the spouse tries to compensate by being too cooperative, but in the end all they end up being is resentful and the problem never gets solved. You and Michelle have a good relationship because you respect each other, don't cater to her; make her face what happened. She'll hide behind you, and I know you, you'll let her."

"It's easy to say that Sean when you've never been married. She's my wife. It's my job to protect her."

"See," he pointed out. "You're already doing it. Rescuing her from terrorists is one thing, but protecting her from herself is something different."

"She's stronger than you think," Steve fired back, "mentally and emotionally. She'll get through this. We both will." He angrily scooped up the passports and put them back in the bag. "I appreciate your help with getting her back Sean, but don't lecture me on my duties as a husband until you step into those shoes."

Sean put his hands up, "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to give you a heads up. But don't you sit there and pretend that just because I'm not married that I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Drop it alright?"

"Get her some help, soon."

"I said drop it!"

He didn't reply, but dropped it as requested. They still had a long flight ahead of them.

Steve went to stand up but hesitated, facing his friend again. "Look Sean," he said more calmly, "I appreciate what you're trying to say. I really do, but Michelle and I have this…" he wished he could explain to him the tight bond that they shared but it was hard to put into words. "We're stronger I think than most couples. We have great communication. She can talk to me and she knows it. I agree she's going to need counseling, but I just don't want to force her hand right away. This is going to be a long road to recovery, and I just want her to feel that I'm still her biggest ally and not just her husband. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, I get it, just don't cross that line Steve where you take on the burden so much that it becomes a threat to her when you do finally say its time. That's all I'm saying."

He looked over at his sleeping wife. "I won't." But he had no idea where that line was. He had to trust her as much as she trusted him. There was going to be hard times ahead, that he knew, but he had to trust in Michelle that she would rely on the one thing she was good at recognizing, her strengths and her weaknesses. Neither of them had ever been ashamed to express the latter of the two to each other, hoping that still stood.

Michelle laid still listening to them talk, hearing the tail end of their conversation. She didn't know how to feel about what they were saying. She felt emptiness inside of her that she never knew could exist, not even after the time all those years before when she thought she had lost Steve in a helicopter accident. This feeling of emptiness was different. It took away her power, her energy, leaving her lying there feeling weak and guilty on so many levels, but more than that she felt shame. She listened to Steve talk about their strong relationship, but yet he couldn't even look at her as a husband the night before, let alone attempt to perform as one. Instead he saw her as she felt, weak and fragile, which made her even angrier. He never would have treated her that way if it hadn't been for the rape. She could already see the changes in him. His eyes the night before about broke her heart the way he looked at her, not at all in the same adoring way he used too or the way she had dreamt of while she lay on that had hard wooden floor after a beating, or on the table as she was being tortured in the worse way. Her husband who had been her mental stability through it all and had come through for her, liberating her from her captures like the hero she had always felt he was, but he hadn't expected to be bringing home this person she was now. She could see the horror in his eyes when she had asked him for the one thing they had held so sacred in their marriage. The emptiness surrounded her, realizing they would never have that same intimacy ever again. It was gone.

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Michelle opened her eyes, feeling a jolt of the plane as it hit an air pocket. She moaned softly as she slowly pushed herself up. She felt his arm come around her waist, helping her.

"You ok? Are you in pain?"

She looked up at the concern in his eyes. "I'm just stiff is all."

He reached over her to a napkin that was on a plate of food that the one flight attendant who was on board had left for her. She, and the two pilots resided through a door in the front of the plane where the galley and a bed similar to the one Michelle slept on was. They were not to be seen or heard from unless called upon by the button over each of the passenger seats. Then they appeared dutifully in a matter of seconds.

He took the napkin and gently dabbed it on her cheek. "You broke open a cut while you slept."

She looked down at the pristine white pillow that had traces of smeared blood on it. She scooted away from him, putting her feet on the floor, using her hands to push herself up. He stood up and began to reach for her when she halted his help. "I got it," she sighed. "You don't have to stand by my side every second like I'm going to crumble or something." She walked away toward the bathroom.

He watched her try and hide the pain she felt, but the limp in her walk told the truth. He stared at the bruises on the back of her legs that looked even worse as they healed. And the terrible scrapes on both of her elbows made him wince. He loved her so much that even when she had a paper cut he hated the discomfort it brought her, what he was seeing now tore at his heart like nothing he'd ever felt before. He closed his eyes, catching his emotions before they got away from him, not wanting her to see just how badly it did affect him. She was self-conscious at the moment and he didn't need to re-ignite her feelings of insecurity all because he wanted to cry for his wife's pain and not her appearance, afraid she wouldn't see it that way.

He busied himself in the meantime by putting away her bed and arranging her tray of food that consisted of a sandwich wrapped in cellophane to keep it fresh and a bag of chips. He set it on the small table and pushed the button alerting the flight crew that they were needed. Within a minute she appeared as he requested a couple of cold bottles of water and some coffee for himself. He glanced over at Sean who had his back to him as he slept on one of the other converted beds, softly snoring.

He thanked her as she brought it to him and then disappeared through the door once again, leaving him alone. He sat back and looked out the window of the plane, seeing the sun just beginning to break the horizon. They'd be home in less than four hours, wondering how he was going to explain to the girl's Michelle's absence. They wouldn't even be able to video chat with her. He hated lying but felt honestly there was no other way.

His thoughts were interrupted as Michelle made her way back over to him. He made a move to help her and then withdrew, recalling her earlier scolding of not hovering over her. Again, it wasn't because he thought she was weak, but because if an extra hand would reduce even the slightest bit of her discomfort, he would have willingly cut off both of his and given them to her. It was hard to sit and not help.

She caught his eye for only a moment and then turned away from it, hating the pity she saw. She knew him and knew it wasn't all because of her appearance, he loved her, she knew that and if the tables were turned she'd feel the same way about his pain, but she couldn't help but feel the shame over him knowing that another man had been where she had only promised him for the rest of her life. How could he not think it? Even if he didn't blame her, which she was assured he didn't, still, the thought of that other man had to be there.

She took the seat as he began to unwrap her sandwich.

"You should be starving. If you want another one, just let me know, or something else even. They have a menu of about six different items." He looked up at her, "Is this ok? Do you want to look at the menu and maybe get something else? I thought you'd be hungry when you woke up so I wanted something you could eat right away, but if you want something else…" he said, trying to appease her when she reached over putting her hand over his.

"It's fine, Steve. Thank you. It looks really good actually. You made a good choice."

He smiled pulling open one of the bag of chips. "I know you can't resist Doritos. I got you two bags because I know you like to put half of them on your sandwich."

Michelle smiled too but it lasted only a second as she reached up, touching a cut on her lip that had spread open. "Ouch." She moistened it with her tongue but it only made it sting.

"Here," Steve said, getting up and going over to Sean's bag. He brought back a small tube and squeezed out a little bit of the clear gel on his index finger. He sat down in the seat next to her. "This should help. Sean said he uses it on burns but it works great for cuts too. It's odorless and tasteless."

She held still as he gently touched her cut lip, using his finger as he spread the gel over it. She looked at him as he concentrated on his duty, moving from her lips to another one on her cheek. His touch was as tender as it ever was, being careful so as not to cause her anymore discomfort. The vision before her now was the one she had focused on as she lay on the cold, hard floor after an encounter with the man. Steve was her salvation and comfort through it all.

"I knew you'd come for me," she said barely above a whisper. "I knew it all along."

He stopped what he was doing and looked into her beautiful hazel eyes, seeing his wife that he loved so much looking back at him for the first time since they reunited. "I'm sorry, Michelle. I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"I never gave up. I never gave up fighting," she said through gritted teeth. "I fought him every time. I fought hard, Steve," she whimpered, wanting him to know just that.

He put his hand behind her neck, cupping it gently, yet with purpose so she couldn't turn away from him. "Listen to me. I know you. I know what kind of woman and what kind of soldier you are. I've never seen you give up on anything. If you couldn't control the situation it wasn't because you didn't fight back hard enough, it was because you were restrained or overpowered. Even then I know you wouldn't give up."

She held her hand up, as tears filled her eyes, showing him the evidence of bruises around her wrist. "He tied my hands."

He didn't look at them but kept his eyes focused on hers. It broke his heart that she felt she had to prove it to him. "I love you." Those words had never meant more to him than they did at that second and the tone of his voice expressed it to her. "Nothing will ever change that. Nothing! You're everything to me; don't you know that? Those few days when the thought was there that I might lose you…" he paused as his own tears sprang to life. "I can't live without you, Michelle. I don't know how I would do it. I couldn't."

"Can you still see me?" she asked, fearing his view of her had become distorted. "Do you still see me the same way?"

"I've told you before, you're the only woman I've ever loved. I'll always see that person in you, no matter what. What happened to you was beyond cruel and beyond any kind of torture that I could have taken. He tried to break you but he failed. You beat him. And he won't break us either, Michelle." He said it with so much conviction that it proved to her that he meant it.

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I didn't see it, but I wish I could have seen his dead body. I heard you yelling when he was trying to get away with me. I heard shots just before he knocked me out." Her voice turned cold, "I wish I could have seen him die."

Steve felt his heart sink, knowing his assumptions had been right. It had been that one that had raped and beat her, and he had let him get away. He pulled back from her, unable to look at her now, knowing he had to tell her. If she found out later it would be even worse.

"He isn't dead," he explained with a heavy heart. "He got away through a tunnel under the camp. We lost him."

Michelle scooted back away from him, "What?! What do mean? Sean said you cleaned house! He told me that!"

"Sean wasn't there with us. He was in another part of the compound. I'm sorry, I tried…"

"No!" she replied frantically, "You don't understand! He threated the girls, Elie and Ellen! He had pictures from my phone of the girls. He said he'd get to them too!"

His first reaction over that was shock and then anger, but as he processed it he knew more than anything it was a form of mental control to get her to talk. The threat wasn't real, but to her it was very real, only because she'd lived through it.

"It was a threat, nothing more," Steve said. "He can't even get out of the country, let alone make it to Hawaii. We have his passports, both of them."

Michelle stood up; her adrenaline overshadowed her pain as she began to pace back and forth in the confined area, shaking her head. "No! He meant it! What happened to me," she stopped and shuttered at the thought, "he said he'd do to them." She felt she might faint at just the idea of him being out there somewhere in the world, planning such an event.

Steve held her by the arms. "Listen to me! He can't hurt them. Do you think I'd let him get anywhere near my kids!"

"You let him get away!" she yelled.

Sean rolled over, the commotion waking him up.

Steve stared at her, hearing those words that were like a knife being shoved into his chest. He'd failed her again, "I didn't know then what he had done to you. If I had I would have gone into that tunnel myself and hunted him down like an animal and left him to die in there, but I didn't know then. You were hurt and I just wanted to get you out of there." The regret in his eyes should have explained to her his remorse over letting her down, but she couldn't see past her own fear.

"He's coming for us! He'll find them! He'll take them!"

She was hysterical. He'd never seen her this way before and knew there was only one thing that would calm the hysteria inside of her.

"Michelle!" he said gripping her by both arms, gently shaking her to get her attention. "I'll find him! I promise you, I'll find him!"

"Kill him, Steve," she replied, her voice stressing her hatred and the willingness for him to succeed in not just locating him but ending him. "I want you to find him and I want you to kill him!"

The woman looking back at him had turned into someone he didn't recognize. It sent a shiver through him over the coldness in her eyes, but he understood. His wife needed this from him. If this is what she wanted to make her feel safe and give her peace of mind then how could he refuse? He'd die for her, and now at this moment he knew he'd also kill for her.

"I'll find him…" he looked her dead on, "and I'll kill him, for you."

She nodded, acknowledging her belief in his words, hearing it loud and clear by not only the way in which he accepted her plea, but because he'd never, ever lied or broken a promise to her. She knew he'd do just that. He'd kill for her if that was what she wanted. She didn't even take a second to contemplate the gravity of it; she wanted it more than anything else he had ever promised her.

She put her arms around his body, laying her head on his shoulder. "I love you. Protect me. Protect our family."

He held her close, feeling a small redemption from the night before. He hadn't been able to fulfill her needs then, and in light of his guilt he felt this would prove to her that he was still her ally and hero no matter what came between them.

Sean stared at them, dumbfounded over what he'd just heard. It was exactly as he had predicted and what he had warned Steve of only hours before. He just never imagined it would escalate this quickly or become so gruesome to the point that Steve would go against everything he believed in to accommodate his wife's request. He understood the fear but it moved into a territory that he couldn't comprehend. But it was out of his hands. What he'd just heard, came from a man whom was desperately in love with his wife and would do anything to hold onto that bond with her that he had so proudly expressed earlier, even going as far as killing for it.