Eight Years Ago

What the fuck had he just said?

Remorse washed over him immediately but… not regret. Because it was true. How could she wear a symbol of her promise to always fight to get back to him while at the same time holding onto something that would take her away?

Didn't she have to choose?

She did, and she knew it, but as she slowly nodded Jay realized it was an ultimatum he'd spend the rest of his life wishing he hadn't made. The roaring in his head went silent as she slowly reached up and pulled it over head, eyes locked on St. Michael, her thumb almost reverently brushing over the angel before she gently set it down on the coffee table. And then she just turned and walked out of the apartment, the soft click of the door bringing the world rushing back in. Too bad his had just left.

He could feel Greg looking between him and the door, could feel his shock and anger and understanding, and felt a swell of gratitude when he rushed after her. But it was muted, the same way everything around him suddenly looked dull, like all the light had followed her out. Every day she was with him he stared at that angel, whispering prayers she chuckled at when she heard him so he'd seen it getting old but it had never looked so tarnished as it did now. And it felt heavier, like it was carrying the weight of all those failed prayers. But what about her failed promise?

When he'd found her in the valley he'd thought she had been in a moment of desperation, thought that he had brought her out of it, but was that a lie?

Had she always been willing to leave him?

Fuck him, had she always been willing to die?

Yes.

That was the life of an operative. Of a soldier. It was a sacrifice he'd been preparing to make since before he could remember and he'd never had a problem with it, ten minutes ago would have said that all death was equal but now… How could it be? How was someone like him equal to her? She was supposed to be the one who never gave up, the one who was going to change the world.

She couldn't do that if she was dead.

It was still muted but he heard when Greg came back, his flare of hope squashed when he saw him alone. And replaced with guilt when he saw his face. Yes, Greg was just as stunned and horrified at what she'd been keeping secret, but he was also disappointed at how he'd handled it.

"Do you agree with her?"

His friends deep and heavy breath had his own chest constricting. "I don't know. Maybe. I get where she's coming from. You know how many men follow that code-"

"Not us! I'd rather be tortured by a thousand Taliban than have one of my men carry that."

"I think that's easy to say when it's never happened to us."

I get to decide what I will and will not subject myself to.

Things worse than death.

Was he the wrong one?

"I don't think so." That was an uncommon enough answer that Greg let out a sad chuckle at his expression before grasping his shoulder, hard enough that the world came a little more into focus. "I don't think this is a right or wrong situation. And I don't know if either one of you is going to change the other's mind. But I hope you can."

He hoped he could too.

"Do you know where she went?"

It was his turn to squeeze his friends shoulder at his guilty look, confused when it turned wary. "You didn't flush it did you?"

"What?"

"Forgive me for checking you didn't poison our sewer system in a fit of despair." He said dryly but he could see the worry in his eyes, and for the first time since finding the ring felt better at the resolve that took over before he held out his hand. "You guys are going to talk first. Me and her are going to talk second."

He was quick to give it over but that surge faded fast, almost making him forget about the other piece of jewelry until he sank onto his bed and went to put his head in his hands. What would St. Michael think? He was the patron saint of soldiers so he probably had a good understanding, but would that make him more or less likely to agree with him? Did it even matter?

The only one whose opinion held any weight was Tess and he already knew what she thought. He swore he could hear her crying, voicing the aching in his own heart before he slowly realized it wasn't his imagination. He could hear her crying. In a second he was in the hallway but she wasn't there, and the sound had gone so he rushed back in his room, eying the closet for a second before his eyes went to the open window. But he still couldn't see her. He was seriously debating taking out the screen so he could stick his head out before it occurred to him he was looking in the wrong place.

Not down.

Up.

She was on the roof.

Jay tore out of the apartment like a bat out of hell, a bit of an uncoordinated bat but he made it, his eyes going right to where she sat when he flung open the steel door. Right above where their bedroom was.

He'd startled her, but not as badly as he'd hurt her; her arms were wrapped tight around her knees and her face tear stricken, so much she wasn't even bothering to wipe them away, possibly the first time he'd ever seen her not. Or maybe that was because she was trying not to add blood to the mix. As an adult he'd only put his fist through a wall once but clearly brick did a lot more damage. He ached to touch her but held himself back, out of fear and respect, and just knelt across from her, his heart breaking all over again when he saw the nervous way she watched him, wanting his comfort but afraid to take it.

Afraid that it was conditional.

But as righteous as he'd felt making that ultimatum he knew now he was wrong. Not in his beliefs, but in his desire to control hers. And maybe he couldn't reconcile them but he couldn't lose her either. And if the only thing that was sure was that one day some way she would die then… He wanted to live with her.

"I don't understand. I'm trying to, I know what you said was right, I know I don't know what it's like and I know other men will do that but I… I can't. And I know it's not my call but I don't understand."

"I don't either." Tess whispered, so brokenly he had to hold himself back from crushing her against him.

Maybe she wasn't as firm in this conviction as he'd thought, and maybe Greg was right that he couldn't change her mind, and maybe he shouldn't try to. But what Jay did think he should do was tell her what he believed in. Not God, not even country.

Her.

"You… You fight. It's what you do." He said with a small laugh, not because it was funny but because if he didn't he would either cry or scream and… Because it was true. "Harder and better than anyone else and I don't know how to accept a world where you don't. I don't know what that looks like."

A world where Tess Danvers gave up?

That was a world that was lost, and all of them along with it.

And he could see that a part of her thought so too. She didn't want to, thought it was arrogant and maybe it would be from anyone else but she was the only one who backed it up. And he knew that meant that those things she'd spoken of earlier, they were going to happen and he genuinely hated that but that was what she'd chosen, what she believed in doing. And he believed that if she chose to, she wouldn't just get through them, she would rise above them.

And she wouldn't do it alone.

He would be here, for whatever she needed.

Regardless of what it meant for him.

"Whatever you decide… I'm with you. To whatever end. But I believe that there's another way. Because… You're Tess Danvers. You can do anything. And you don't yield, to anyone."

Her tears might be silent but they ramped up with the nod to her favourite book series, the heroine she saw herself in and as her chin slowly raised with a shaky breath he felt his heart lifting with it. "Another way."

"Another way." Jay promised as he at last gave into the urge to hold her, still scared shitless but soothed by how tightly she held him back, how she kept nodding and pushing closer. "We'll find another way. Together."

There wasn't anything they couldn't do together.