A/n: Like I told the people kind enough to leave me reviews, I'm tired of pulling the wings off this fly. It's always been my intention for this to be a HEA story, and it's been short on happy lately. With that in mind, I'm posting two consecutive chapters for a total of over 10k words. I will be with family all the live long day celebrating Thanksgiving here in the U.S. and would be much obliged if y'all would take a minute to leave a review so I have an excuse to step away from my drunk uncle and/or my in-laws to read them.

The guest reviews have been so kind and encouraging and I have no way to thank you via PM… so thank you for taking a minute to leave a review, they are sincerely appreciated.

Gia arrived at the agreed-upon location fifteen minutes early; she had every intention of finding a bench that was somewhat secluded and taking a few minutes to try and calm her nerves.

She exited her car and stretched her legs, scanning the parking lot. She was only mildly surprised to see Lester's car already there. His voice last night over the phone had sounded so relieved that every word he spoke came out on a sigh. His obvious happiness at hearing from her hadn't diminished at all when she'd done her utmost to end the call quickly, only asking him to meet her at the park for coffee and conversation before her 9am appointment. He'd agreed with everything she'd asked and wisely refrained from any loving endearments as she ended the call.

Now, standing on shaky legs and facing the reality of the situation, Giana found herself longing for the solitude her misery had enveloped her in. Did it solve any problems? Of course not, but she couldn't deny that burying her head in the sand had been nice while it lasted.

Her reflection was cut short as the door to Lester's car opened and the man himself stepped out, straightening slowly and never taking his eyes off of her. At just over six feet tall with a physique that spoke of endless workouts and training, he still made her breath catch in her throat. His beauty wasn't diminished by his hasty and deplorable actions; rather, there was a wistful edge to her longing for him now, a hazy and distant 'If only' that reverberated in her subconscious.

As her hungry gaze drifted to his face, she was both pained and gratified to see the emotions flitting across his face, so clear there was no mistaking them – remorse, sadness, but overwhelmingly, adoration. He looked at her like a dying man looking toward his salvation, and that was what snapped her out of her stupor.

Clearing her throat, she nodded toward his car and spoke. "Can we sit inside? I didn't realize how cold it would be out here." He nodded in response and walked around his car, waiting at the passenger door as she made her way over. Giana slowed as she approached him, caution and hesitance clear in her posture, until Lester opened the door and gestured that she should sit.

He knew, of course, that she'd been afraid he would try and greet her with affection, perhaps trying to steal a kiss or wrap her in the hug he was desperate for. The fact that she'd shied away from his touch was a painful reminder of just where he stood with her.

Gia watched asLester jogged around the car and climbed in the drivers seat, the solid whump of the door sealing cutting off the soft buzz of New Jersey noise and ensconcing them in silence. The awkwardness of being enclosed in a car with this man tore at her delicate resolve; instinct dictated that she crawl across the console and curl into his lap and allow him to comfort her. Fear kept her firmly planted in her seat.

Instead of giving in to her base desires, Gia refocused and reached for the takeout mug in the cupholder, shooting a questioning glance at Les. Finally, he spoke.

"It's a latte, the one you like from Starbucks," he assented, nodding. She was thrown by his hoarse, throaty voice, so different from the strong low baritone she remembered; had it been so long? Upon closer inspection, she noted several things that had escaped her when she first saw him step out of his car.

He was thinner than the last time she saw him, though admittedly she hadn't been paying much attention to his body that day. His eyes were shadowed, the dark bruise-like circles speaking of sleepless nights. The bruises from his fight with Hector, while faded, were still awful, and the row of tiny stitches made her cringe inwardly.

All of that, though, was dwarfed by the haunted, hungry look in his eyes and the way he trembled at the close proximity of her. It thrilled her that he could still look at her like that, like she was his only care in the world…and it burned her that he would dare to gaze at her with love-filled eyes after he was so careless with her heart.

Clearing her throat, Giana closed her eyes and took a sip of her drink before lowering the cup and nodding toward his injuries, saying, "You look terrible."

Lester's sharp, soft intake of break and slow blink made Gia acutely aware that this man next to her, for all his physical prowess, was metaphorically on his knees in front of her. It was a realization that troubled her.

"You look beautiful," he breathed, not daring to meet her eyes. The silence that followed his statement was painful and filled with things left unsaid.

After a few beats, Giana spoke again. "I guess I really just wanted to ask you a couple of things," she began as she worried her fingers in nervous anticipation. "I am…unhappy, just sitting in this medium and I need to move forward, one way or another."

Lester nodded only once, his jaw tensing as he waited for her to begin.

"When you came home from your trip, what did you do?" she asked, her eyes fixed on his face.

Keeping his eyes focused on his lap, Lester's reply was immediate. "I came looking for you. Tank picked us up at the airport, we dropped Ric off at RangeMan and I grabbed a car and headed to your place."

"And?" she prompted.

Lester swallowed audibly before continuing. "I saw you, on the porch, with a guy who looked a lot like the picture I saw of your ex. I just….I guess I assumed it was him. Your cousin didn't even cross my mind. I was upset…" he trailed off here, unsure of how to proceed.

Her quiet voice broke the silence. "And you didn't think to talk to me? To ask me why I'd cheat on you, or what my ex was doing at my house? You could've savedus so much –" and here her voice broke, along with the remnants of Lester's dignity. She cleared her throat before continuing, "Saved us so much heartache if you had."

Lester's head dropped, his hand pulling distraughtly at his hair. "I couldn't bear to hear you end it. I thought if I asked, it gave you the opportunity to tell me you'd left me for him and it just…it just wasn't something I could handle. I'm so sorry."

Silence filled the car as Giana processed what he'd told her; it wasn't news, really. She'd been able to deduce as much from the short conversation they'd had that day in his apartment. Still, there was a niggling question that had consumed her thoughts and she needed an answer from him.

Giana had always, from the night of their first date, felt safe with Les. Protected. Cherished. Her entire sense of security was swallowed by the callous way he'd exacted his juvenile revenge, however, and so the surety she'd gained from his love was gone.

It was with this weight pressing on her that she asked, "Was that the only time? Those two?"

Lester drew in a breath and opened his mouth, only to blanch and glance guiltily at her.

"Oh," she whispered before squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, no."

"It's not what you're thinking." Lester's pleading tone was rushed, bordering on frantic. She could sense when he shifted his body, so when she felt his hand on her forearm she flinched not out of surprise but distaste. Gia could hear the hurt in his voice when he continued, but for once, she just didn't care.

She listened, eyes still squeezed shut, as he fumbled over his story – how he'd driven to some bar and picked up a girl straight away, how he'd taken 'Mona' into the bathroom and then they…didn't 'exactly' have sex.

Upon hearing his feeble explanation, Giana's eyes snapped open and she glared at him, the fury she felt at his explanation contorting her face.

"So you, what? Got a blow job in the bathroom and that makes it better? That hurts me less?" she hissed. She felt oddly disassociated from the conversation. She could sense her own anger and see how Lester cringed and winced at her tirade, but there was a clear impression that she wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.

"Please, baby –" at her baleful stare, Lester began stuttering through an apology. "It wasn't…that. It – she, um, just used her, um, hand."

And with that admission, Giana simultaneously felt her anger ebb away and identified the source of her earlier detachment – fear. Fear that once she heard the awful, ugly truth, she would break again.

She felt the cracks reappearing, felt the fissures bursting along barely healed seams at his confession. Giana had wanted to meet with Lester to get some answers to the questions that kept her up late into the nights, wrongly assuming it would make her feel better somehow, as though the disclosure would be restorative. She'd never been more wrong; this was infinitely worse. Knowing what had transpired that night, even with the barest of details…it hurt, goddammit.

She didn't realize she was crying until Lester quietly passed her a tissue, and she hadn't realized she'd shrank against the door – away from him – until she noted how far he had to lean to reach her. Giana ignored his proffered hand and closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of Lester's pain-stricken face. She covered her ears, effectively closing out the weak sound of his voice apologizing. She folded herself almost in half, her forehead pressed to her knees, and cried.

It wasn't the same mournful, crushing breakdown she'd had in his apartment that day; a woman can only break so completely once in her lifetime. This cry and these tears felt like an effigy, and that thought alone brought on a fresh wave of sadness. She cried for herself, and for Lester, and for the chapters of their story that would now never be written.

It wasn't until she felt his hand on her back that she snapped from whatever stronghold Grief had on her. With a gasp she sat bolt upright, narrowly missing slamming the back of her head into Lester's face. She scrabbled for the door handle, desperate to put some space between her and him. She needed to get away, to be alone so she could work this out in her head and she knew with him in such close proximity, she'd be completely useless.

Gia bolted from his car, not bothering to close the door and hurried toward her own. She ignored Lester's voice, imploring her to wait, to stop, to please, please not leave him again and she slid neatly into her driver's seat, quickly locking the doors.

She fumbled to slide the key into the ignition and was puzzled as to why they wouldn't fit. After her third attempt, she noticed that her breathing was irregular, a staccato of short shaky breaths in followed by an exhaled cry. Awareness of her body bloomed, and she noted that she was trembling, quite violently, and felt light-headed.

She abandoned her efforts at making a quick getaway and dropped her keys to the floor, resting her forehead on the steering wheel and closing her eyes. She tried, she really did, to concentrate on breathing slowly, in and out, deep cleansing breaths…but it just wasn't happening.

After what seemed like a lifetime, she felt a hand rest between her shoulder blades. With a breathless shriek, she jumped in her seat and threw her hands out to ward off her intruder.

She registered surprise somewhere in the recesses of her brain when she saw Hector sitting in her passenger seat, but the need for oxygen was too great to dwell on it.

"You're having a panic attack, novia. Try and calm down." His low, even voice was the shock she needed and she drew in a shallow, shuddering breath. Hector placed his flattened palm against her sternum, then took her hand and placed it on his own.

"Like this," he murmured, taking a deep breath. "Look at my eyes. Breathe like me. Breathe with me."

After a few more minutes of staring at Hector's calm face and listening to him soothe her through this, Gia was finally able to draw a deep, cleansing breath in. Upon her shaky exhale, she looked at Hector through wet lashes and said, "Did you break into my car?"

He chuckled in reply before he turned to glance over his shoulder and lift one hand in a silent, quick wave. It was then that Gia noticed that Lester's car was still in the lot and that he was sitting in the driver's seat. She stiffened when he raised his hand in response, then started his car and drove away.

Turning her attention back to Hector, she raised one eyebrow expectantly. "Well?"

"Sì. I broke into your car; you had all the doors locked and didn't look up when I knocked on the glass."

Her voice was softer when she spoke again. "Oh. I didn't hear you."

His smile held no trace of humor. "No, I'm sure you didn't. You were hyperventilating and shaking like you were being shocked. I debated on breaking the window to get to you but I figured you were pissed off enough at me, so I picked the lock."

"I am pissed at you," she muttered, carefully laying her head on his shoulder. His arm immediately encircled her shoulders and she curled closer to him, grateful for his warmth. "But I'm also happy you're here. Hey!" she raised her head, a thought suddenly occurring to her. "How did you know what was going on?"

"Santos called me. I almost didn't answer when I saw it was him; glad I did." Hector's soft voice was immensely soothing and Gia laid her head back down.

"I'm glad you did, too. I hated being at odds with you. But Hec," she drew in a breath, gearing up for what she needed to say, "you can't just take it upon yourself to do things like that. I appreciate that you want to keep me safe, I do, but this was between Les and I. I'd never get in the middle of you and Vaughn and I expect the same courtesy."

When Hector only grunted in response, Gia decided to call this a win and let it go. Glancing at her watch, she sighed and reluctantly pulled away from Hector and started fishing for her dropped keys.

"I've got a patient in 45 minutes, I really need to get going so I can at least wash my face before I see him. Do I look okay?" she asked hopefully, turning her face toward Hec's with a smile plastered on.

Hector took a good look at her; hair askew, face blotchy and pale, eyes red from crying and a god-awful smile painted on and couldn't contain his snort of laughter. He covered his mouth and did his best to look contrite. Giana rolled her eyes and said, "Alright, alright, I get it, I look like Hell. Maybe he'll just think I'm hungover or something," before starting her car.

Hector reached across the console and turned her car off, raising an eyebrow at her. "You just had a panic attack. I'm driving."

The drive to the VA on Quakerbridge was spent in companionable silence, both Giana and Hector happy to be in the other's good graces again. Neither thought of bringing up Gia's morning conversation with Lester, or the fact that Les had to call Hector for backup; they simply enjoyed each other's company.

Once he'd dropped her in front of the building with the promise of returning in two hours time, Hector took off for the building on Haywood.

Eating crow had never been Hector's strong suit; in fact, he meticulously avoided putting himself in a position where it was a possibility. But he was also a man who held himself to a high (albeit skewed) moral standard, and he could grudgingly acknowledge that Lester Santos had done him a solid by making that call this morning.

It was with this in mind that Hector breached the fourth floor apartment Lester occupied, quietly letting himself in. He scanned the space and was more than a little surprised to see the messy state of the place; Santos was military, and those guys were notorious neatniks. Hector could only guess at the reasons behind the disorder, but he was pretty sure he knew.

His reflection was cut short when Lester emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet from his shower. He didn't seem rattled by Hector's presence, instead offering the man a cup of coffee which Hector declined, graciously.

"I wanted to thank you for calling me; you didn't have to. You could've called any number of people. You did me a favor, and I'm grateful."

When Les only nodded, Hector eyed him, more than a little curious. He decided to poke the bear and see what came of it.

"I am not sorry I called you to the mats. You earned that session." Lester's only answer was another wordless nod before blowing on his steaming mug and taking a sip while glancing over Hector's shoulder. Hec knew, from his quick inventory of the apartment, that there was a small cluster of framed pictures on a shelf resting there…all of Gia.

Hector spoke again, shooting for casual. "Your talk did not go well this morning?" he asked, not missing Lester's answering grimace or the subtle, hesitant shake of his head.

The phrase 'like pulling teeth' came to mind as Hector tiptoed through this uncharted, unwelcome territory. Vaughn had, over the course of the week, filled Hector in on the events leading up to Lester's colossal fuck-up. While Hector was still unremorseful about administering an ass-kicking to Les…a small part of him couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. Hector was no stranger to inner demons and the struggle that went hand-in-hand with trying to shirk the ingrained uncertainty they bred. Hell, if things with Vaughn had gone differently, he might've found himself sitting alone in his own apartment, looking like Death warmed over.

And there it was. The parallel he'd unwittingly drawn between himself and Lester all but dissolved his remaining animosity. That he, Hector, could be sitting and pining for Vaughn if the beast inside of him had won was a sobering realization and one he couldn't ignore.

Les had no way of knowing of the invisible shift that had just taken place, so to say he was surprised when Hector stood and briefly placed a hand on his shoulder was a gross understatement. The gesture, while small, was comforting nonetheless. Lester was no fool – he knew men like Hector did not concede easily, and it made the token all the more precious.

Later that evening, Hector's parting words would ring over and over in Lester's hungry mind.

"Don't give up. She loves hard, with everything she's got; you can't just turn off a love like that. You might be down, but you're not out. Not yet."