The Greater Good

"Let him go! You'll have to kill both of us to get away, Sergeant. Are you prepared for that? My Christopher was a Sergeant, too. This is his pistol. But he died in the Solomons. I wonder what he'd make of you." Jean's hand trembled and there were tears in her eyes, but her voice was strong and fierce. She gestured with the gun for Hannam to move.

He released Lucien, who doubled over, gasping for air and coughing. Lucien moved to her side. "Thank you, Jean," he breathed.

Lucien immediately called Lawson and tied Hannam up until the police came to get him.

But as they waited, Jean finally lowered her weapon—Christopher's weapon. Lucien watched her from the corner of his eye and was struck with the most powerful realization.

Jean Beazley was the best woman he'd ever known.

Lucien loved his wife, still loved her after all these years, and had known many smart and beautiful women in his life. But seeing Jean this way, having her enthusiastically assist him in sneaking into a hotel, having her rescue him the way she had, to hear the pride in her voice as she spoke of her husband…it hit him all of a sudden.

She had experienced so much pain in her life. The world had been cruel to her and had surely beaten her down. But Jean Beazley always held her head high. She was shockingly kind and intelligent, and she was the strongest person he'd ever met. She was so lovely, and she didn't deserve an ounce of the heartache she had experienced.

How different would it be, Lucien wondered, if Christopher had survived instead of Lucien? If Jean had her upstanding husband by her side instead of being saddled with a sorry drunkard like Lucien bloody Blake?

She deserved so much better. But in that moment, Lucien knew he had found everything he hadn't realized he needed. And he found it all in the beauty, brilliance, and bravery of Jean Beazley.

He'd been distracted the rest of the night, attempting to get answers out of Hannam, having a thoroughly frustrating and disappointing conversation with Derek. He returned home in the morning in time to see Jean on her way to Anzac Day. And oh my, did she look pretty. Bright and proud and so very pretty.

His voice caught in his throat as they spoke. It must have been sleep deprivation that made the emotion overwhelm him in such a way. But seeing Jean there, wearing her husband's medals, knowing she was going to be staying, it was all just too much to bear.

Jean smiled at him. She nodded encouragingly. And Lucien sniffed back his tears as she walked out the door to march in the parade. Because he knew she would be coming back.