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It takes an hour or two until her crying stops. We're still sitting at the bathroom floor, my legs have gone dead and I'm cold through and through. But that doesn't matter, as I'm still holding that fragile body in my arms. She seems to have found some kind of peace now. Her sobs stopped, her head rests against my chest and I'm softly stroking over her hair, telling her that everything is alright for now.

It's the now that counts. I guess she wouldn't even be able to handle it if I told her that everything is gonna be alright at one point in the future. Her tormented mind doesn't even allow her to think of any future. She lives in the here and now and doesn't care about the past or the future. She's focused on hiding, running away or bracing herself against whatever comes.
At one point in the past two hours I guess she realized that here and now everything is okay and that she can hold on to me. I won't leave, I tell her, I'll always be there for you.

I've been thinking for such a long time what to tell her. I tried to think back a few years, what could people have said to me to make me trust them again? I guess nothing. I can't think of anything to say that would make her suffering easier to handle. Words don't change anything.

We can't stay here forever, that's why I finally get up and carry her with me, back to the bedroom. She's easy to carry - she weighs almost nothing. After sitting there with me for such a long time she even trusts me enough to let me carry her and to let me put her down on that blanket that she put onto the floor in her corner. I push a few other things away and grab my pillow and blankets from the bed to lie down next to her.

I'm not tired, but I lie down next to her anyway, because I don't want to leave her alone.
Even though she's still not able to say one word, she gives me a little smile as we look into each other's eyes. For now, I'll stay silent, as well. I'm not gonna force her to speak. She will talk to me, one day - whenever she wants.

Half a year ago, when I met her in London, I was totally unprepared. I hadn't planned meeting her. They put me in that room and made me wait - and the least thing that I expected was for her to show up. But then it suddenly happened.
The door opened and she was there. My heart skipped a few beats and then my pulse skyrocketed.

Everything was still there. Everything. I knew it in the moment in which I saw her face. It had been nine long years in which we hadn't seen each other. But they didn't exist in that moment. It seemed like no second had passed, ever since that morning when she came to me, asking me how much longer I needed to stay at CTU, after I had brought down Logan.

I don't know why we didn't kiss each other- we we already so close. I wanted to, but I didn't, out of respect for her marriage. And she didn't, probably for the same reason. We both felt watched.
I guess she loves that guy Boudreau, otherwise she wouldn't have married him. He's a douche but he loves her as well. Otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to my plans for a rescue mission for Audrey. He brought himself into severe danger. The White House or anyone else could at any time end his house arrest and put him into jail for treason. I'm sure he wouldn't want that, but he took the risk, as he agreed to play his role in making the right people aware of the fact that he and a bunch of other people know that Audrey is alive.

I'm not sure if he'd die for her.

I would. No questions asked, at any time.
It's hard to take that there is somebody else out there, feeling the same way for her as I do. Actually I should be glad that I'm not the only one out there who is still on Audrey's side, but at the same time I can't fight the fear that there is somebody out there who wants to take her away from me again.

If that happens, I have to let her go.

She's lying there peacefully, looking back at me. Actually I thought she would have been tired, but it seems like she isn't. She's lying there, wide awake. Weak, but awake.
I show her a little smile and this time, her smiles grows even bigger. Her whole face lights up for that little moment in which her brain tells her that everything is okay right now. She doesn't think of the past and the future. For now, that's good.

Audrey, I silently say. I wonder how she'll react upon hearing her name.

She remembers something. I'm sure nobody called her by her name in the past months. Hearing her name will bring back her memories of the good times, not the bad ones.
If I could only read her thoughts.
Was it wrong to say her name? To remind her of something, whatever thing it might be? Does she remember her life in Washington, with Boudreau now? I don't know. Does she remember our past life? Does she remember Heller, the White House, her past home? Or is it - in the end - something bad that came into her mind, when I said her name?

I guess it's the ladder. She doesn't look happy, not like before. Damn it, I shouldn't have done it.

She remembers something that makes her sad. She rips her eyes open in horror and stares at me.

It's alright, I hurriedly tell her, Everything is okay. If I only knew what's going on inside her head. If she could only talk to me.
Something keeps her from doing it. I know now that she realizes this herself as well, but she can't do anything about it now. It frightens her. She wants to tell me something but she just can't.

You'll recover, I tell her, and grab her hands. Our faces are just a few inches apart as we look into each other's eyes. If she could speak, she'd tell me that she doesn't believe me. I can't read her mind, but I can see that much from the look in her eyes. It's been eleven years since I lived with her, but time doesn't matter. I still know her. I can still read from her eyes that she's trying to tell me how horrified she is. I always could, no matter if it was something that she silently tried to tell me during a business meeting or at night, when words had long been replaced by silence and nearness.

I'm not so sure if she wants me to come any closer, but I offer her to come into my arms.

She doesn't. Instead, she slightly slips away from me.

It hurts so much to see that. So much. She doesn't even know. One second she trusts me, in the next one she doesn't. I must have reminded her of something really bad when I said her name.

I have to get out of here and give her some time.

But just as I want to stand up she grabs the sleeve of my shirt. After all, she doesn't want me to leave.

I don't lie down next to her again. Instead, I sit down on the floor, leaning by back against the side of the bed. I'm not invading her comfort zone again but I'm close enough to make her feel not alone.

She slowly calms down, I can feel that. Her face shows no longer the anxious or terrified look. Instead, she rather looks afraid of seeing me leave her. She doesn't look like she wants to go to sleep again. I'm not even sure if she's tired at all. We slept so much throughout the past hours that none of us is tired. But she's too weak to be up on her feet.
If you want to stand up, I'll help you, I tell her, silently.

She thinks for a few moments, until she finally, slightly, nods. I help her to stand up, cautious about every move that I make, not to scare her again, by saying or doing something wrong.
With my help, she is able to walk. Her left arm is over my left shoulder, I'm holding her hand with mine. Her hand and arm are so skinny that I'm literally afraid of breaking her bones. My right hand is around her body, holding her tight. It's like I can feel any single one of her ribs through the shirt that she's wearing.

We walk a few steps. When I lead her over to the door, to walk around in the house, I sense that she's holding me back. She obviously doesn't want to leave the room. She's afraid of the outside world.

It's okay, I whisper into her ear, biting back calling her by her name again. No names. No 'honey' or 'sweetheart' or any other names as well. Names seem to remind her of her old life and she's obviously not able to cope with that.

We keep walking through the tiny room for I don't know how long. She's holding up surprisingly well- it must have been half an hour of being up on her feet until she gets tired. It's funny how little words we need to get along with each other. Actually none.
I walk her back to the corner in which the blanket lies on the floor, but she sits down on the bed, instead. I'm stunned at first - but she really wants to take a rest on the bed, and leave her corner. It's a small sign of progress, one that cheers me up again, no matter if she doesn't speak to me or doesn't want to hear me say her name.

I grab the pillows and blankets from the floor and give them to her, and then I sit down on the only chair in the room, watching her, as she falls asleep.
She doesn't want me too close, but she doesn't want to be left alone. I could see that during the minutes that it took for her to fall asleep, her eyes opened slightly from time to time, checking if I was still there.
I'll be there for you, always, I say, silently enough not to wake her up.

I'd love to walk over and place a kiss on her forehead. But I am afraid of waking her up or even worse - frightening her by invading her privacy that way. It'll be a long way until she'll let me do something like this. Right now, I'm not even sure if we'll ever reach that point again in our lives.

It's a hard thing to cope with. She's so close but yet so far away. I'd do anything for her but I know already that I maybe won't get anything in return. I don't do it for getting something in return. I did all the things that I've done so far only for her, because I love her.
I remember Russia. Over there, in the prison, I just wanted to pay for my sins to see her again in heaven one day. I remember my prayers.
Looking at her now, I'm not so sure if they'll ever get true. If she doesn't even choose to be with me in this life - why would she be with me in my next?

Maybe I was just living on illusions, all the time.

I hear that Belcheck arrived back here. It's good that he rips me out of my thoughts, before they get any worse.

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