OK, this one is very short. That hadn't been my intention (again) but, once again there was a lot of emotionally draining feels here and they needed to stand on their own.

I will post the first Tehran chapter tomorrow. I will try to post chapters at least once a week now that I am back at work. Just thought I'd give you fair warning as multiple chapters are not likely to be the norm (i wish it could be).

And since I'm giving warnings, grab that box of tissues before you read this.


"Saying nothing is better than saying the wrong thing."


As a team, they were fine. Amir and Jaz had worked their shit out, and everyone was back to the easy manner in which they had been accustomed.

As a couple, they were anything but fine. They had barely spoken for much of the trip.

The most interaction they'd had came when Jaz had suggested that she would get the sample from the back of the truck. She was right, she was smaller, but Dalton wasn't prepared to put her in that situation.

What irritated him is that he was starting to question himself. Was he hesitant to put Jaz in that situation simply because it was risky, or because he loved her?

Logically, he knew it was both, but at the end of the day, he made the choice because he knew that if anyone should be taking that kind of risk, it should be him.

The reality was if it had simply been about who was the smallest, or the fastest, Amir was a better candidate. And he had voiced that thought, but that wasn't an option either.

It wasn't up for debate.

As it turned out, he was glad he'd made the decision. That Russian had almost dropped him; he wasn't sure how Jaz OR Amir would have fared under the circumstances.

As it stood, Dalton had been laboring as he literally fell into the clearing hoping like hell that his team had gotten there first, because if they hadn't, they were going to stumble into a kill box and discover his lifeless body at the same time.

It had been eerily silent, and there was no sign of his team when he heard and felt the first shots slice through the air around him. But, his team was top notch, and as he fell, they stood.

By the time they'd dispatched the Russians that had pursued him, he had somehow managed to catch his breath.

McG had been the first to kneel beside him, "Talk to me. What's going on? Where's this blood coming from?"

Dalton was quick to explain that it wasn't his but he didn't miss the very real concern in Jaz's eyes when she thought he could have been gravely injured. And that look didn't change all that much when he'd explained that he was only suffering from a couple broken ribs and a bruised ego.

They had managed to get the sample, and for now, the tensions had lifted between the team and some of the anger and hurt that resided between Dalton and Jaz had deflated just the tiniest bit.


On the flight back, Jaz had observed Dalton closely. She could see that he was laboring, it hadn't been that long since he'd taken a shot to the vest and a laundry list of other injuries that followed. She didn't want to see anyone on the team hurt, but the others would accept help.

Dalton was stoic.

He rarely, if ever, admitted that he needed anything.

She didn't care. They had a lot to work through, but she could still be there for him. She needed to make sure that he was alright.


When they got home, she waited patiently sitting on his bed as he showered. He'd been surprised to see her when he came out, she could see it in his eyes, but he didn't ask her to leave. For that she was grateful.

She stood and slowly walked towards him watching for any sign that he was going to push back, maybe ask her to leave him alone.

He didn't. He needed this too.

When she was standing directly in front of him, she looked into his eyes and placed her lips against his jaw as she carefully put her arms around him. She released a sigh of relief when she felt him wrap his arms around her as well.

When he kissed her, she could still feel the pain she'd caused him radiating off of him. He wasn't over it, but she was willing to accept whatever he was willing to give her in that moment.

They didn't talk as Dalton unwound her damp hair from the knot at the top of her head. Not a word was said as he lifted her shirt over her head, or let her flannel pants flutter to the floor, or as his towel dropped beside them. Not even when they settled back into his bed.

This wasn't about fixing what had been broken; it was about comfort.

There were tears shed, and there was comfort given, but words were never spoken.

It had been slow, and gentle and if they'd been in a different headspace, she might have used the word perfect, but they weren't there. Not on this night.

When they were both sated, she placed a kiss on his lips as a single tear landed against his cheek then she quietly got dressed and slipped out of his room and back to her own.

Her heart ached, but she knew he was ok, and for an hour she pretended that they were ok.

They would be, she knew that. It had been clear in that hour that the love was still very much there, but it was going to take time for the hurt to dissipate.

All they needed was time.


Notes: I'm going to run a little further away this time...