Chapter 2

Sidra had been on edge since Tony had told her he was finally going to the cemetery. She knew that with Chloe there it'd be a little easier for him, but she also knew there would be suppressed feelings that wouldn't come out until he was alone. When the door finally opened, then immediately shut with a slam, not because he was angry, but because the wind had beat him to it, she looked up, concerned. His eyes were completely bloodshot, he moved with an exhaustion only characterisable by emotional outpour, and when he met her gaze, all she saw was lament.

"Hey…" She spoke weakly.

He simply gave her a small nod, and dragged his feet to the kitchen. Sidra's breath hitched in her chest. She knew about his history with drinking, and worried whether finally seeing his wife's grave would trigger a relapse. After all, it wasn't as though they didn't keep alcohol in the house. But much to her relief, and also to her pride for him, he simply poured himself a glass of water, before making his way to the laundry. Presumably to take off the mud-soaked pants he was wearing. The shower starting up magnified the soundscape of raindrops she'd immersed herself in throughout the evening. A few moments later, she heard the mattress creak as he got into the bed. Sidra felt a pang when she found him curled, almost in a foetal position, facing the window. Moisture settled on her lips as she pressed them to the back of his still-wet hair, before trailing a hand down his back, and lying down beside him.

"No, Farah…Farah….Farah!" The woman screamed, planting her palms on the cream sheets, sitting upright with a jolt. Sighing, she ran a hand over her face, then through her knotted, dark hair.

"Your sister again?" Tony asked, calmly.

Sidra let out a huff. "Yeah, sorry if I woke you."

He shrugged, half-heartedly. "Not like I never wake you with mine." Tony hadn't slept much that night anyway. Normally he loved falling asleep to the drum of raindrops against the window. But he still felt so numb, so restless.

Lying back down, she curled into his side. Instinctively, he moved his arm so she could rest her head in the crook of his elbow and he could pull her closer. He stroked her forearm repetitively, a placid reminder of his presence. Unlike Tony, who had only the one recurring nightmare of reliving his wife's, and what he wished had been his, final moments, Sidra had the joy of several. Sometimes it would be the final glimpse of her sister's face before an air-strike obliterated their family home. Sometimes it was the petrified face of her fiancé, who had also been in the military, right before a hailstorm of bullets penetrated through her. He could normally tell based on whoever's name she was shouting. There were others though, ones she didn't talk about, and Tony respected that enough not to ask.

Although she generally presented herself as cold and ruthless, Tony knew that just like anybody, Sidra had a vulnerable side. When she'd wake like this in the middle of the night, it would come through. It was subtle, though. He saw it in the way she slowly, almost apologetically snaked an arm around his waist to feel nearer to him. It was the way she'd silently let him push her hair away from her face. Most of all it was the way her hyperventilation would dissipate as she felt the warmth of his body beneath hers. While he'd never say it aloud, the last time he'd called her a pet-name, Sidra had punched him right on a bruise that she definitely knew hadn't healed yet, it was times like these, where they'd simply nestle in each other's arms, that he felt the most affection for her.

"You know, tonight had me thinking…"

She looked up at him, her dark brown eyes full of adoration. He'd always chastise himself for the comparison, but her eyes really did remind him of Michelle's sometimes. Not in shape, Michelle's had been a little rounder, but in colour, in depth, in the way he felt as though they stared into his soul. Even in Nina, her incisiveness was presented mainly by her eyes. What could he say? He had a type.

"Once this job's done, did you want to take a trip to Israel, just the two of us? Tonight…took a lot out of me, but it gave me closure I didn't think I still needed. I just feel like you deserve a chance to get that closure too."

"They're not exactly in a nice cemetery, I'm pretty sure whatever's left of them is just buried under the rubble, I-I don't think I want to know what I'd find." Sidra sighed through her nose. "And besides. It's too much of a risk, if we were seen, they'd kill us on sight. I don't want you to die because of me, especially if you do eventually plan to go to Russia and break your other friend out."

Sidra had taken somewhat of a liking to Chloe, particularly when she found out how efficient she was as an employee. She still referred to her as his 'friend' though, seldom by name. Their bluntness made both of them more alike than Tony realised.

She bit her lip, wishing the circumstances were different. "But I do appreciate it."

"What about something here? We could light some candles, say some prayers, whatever you feel like would help."

Again, she seemed to disagree, a little reluctantly though, by squirming against him. "I'm hardly religious anymore, you know that."

"I get it, I know, but, just think about it a little, alright? If you want to do anything, I'm here. Whatever you want, we'll do it." He kissed her forehead. "I just want to help. You shouldn't have to grieve alone."

Mumbling that she would, Sidra turned her face into his torso, allowing fatigue to pass over her, and silently hoped she'd sleep through the rest of the night.

The smell of coffee wafted into their bedroom. He'd already woken it seemed. Stifling a yawn, Sidra walked out to find him at the breakfast bar, laptop already open, eating a piece of toast.

"Morning." She murmured, resting her chin on the back of his head, her hands trailing down his shoulders.

"Morning." He leaned into her touch. "It's just brewed."

Nodding her thanks, she poured herself a cup, picking a piece of fruit from the bowl, and a granola bar, moving to stand across from him. Silently, they enjoyed each other's company.

"I really appreciate what you offered me last night. Means a lot." Sidra admitted quietly.

He smiled at her, looking up from the computer.

"I know seeing her grave wrecked you yesterday." She never liked to mention Michelle by name, somehow it was less painful for him. Somehow it put distance between him and her death. "But I also know you won't be able to heal properly if you don't go back and talk to her. I know we tend to go all over the place for jobs, and travelling's part of the fun and luxury for us, but… if you want to make LA, or at least California home, so you can be close to her, I understand."

His eyes widened at that.

"So much of your life is here, you've still got people left you want to see. I don't. As long as we still see some action, and as long as we're careful, we can stay if it makes you happy."

"Really? You'd be willing to stay?"

Sidra gave a shy grin. "I like it here anyway. And let's not kid ourselves," she cleared her throat, "we're not in love with each other." He raised an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes, as if to indicate she wasn't finished speaking. "We're not using each other to fill a void left behind by those we've lost. Sure, we use each other for different things. Work, sex, comfort, getting honeymoon discounts when we travel." He smirked at that. "We care about each other because we're broken." She looked down into her coffee, speaking softly. "We're never not going to be broken. A part of you will always ache for the little boy you never got to raise, and a part of me will always ache for the woman I never got to marry." Sidra took a deep breath. "So if I can help you be a little less broken, then that's enough for me."

Tony reached out to clasp her hand on the cool marble, brushing his thumb over her smooth skin, before leaning in to kiss her. She could taste the coffee on his breath. "Thank you." He whispered hoarsely.