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Audrey listened, her mind racing as Jack's story unfolded. She knew Jack's military background, but she hadn't expected this mission to have such an impact on his personal life. She'd read the mission report, all 450 pages of it, filled with post-crash investigations, generals throwing blame at each other for allowing nuclear weapons to be transported over home soil. The official narrative focused on the crash itself, on how the Russian agents had managed to get there before the U.S. special forces. Jack was barely a footnote in that chapter of history—just one of many soldiers involved at some point. Had things gone differently, Hiroshima and Nagasaki could've repeated themselves just 300 miles away from New York.
But Teri hadn't known any of that.
Audrey tried to put herself in Teri's shoes. All Teri had known was that her husband had been distant, conflicted about moving to Italy, and then one day, he disappeared for a "training mission" and when he came back, everything was different. Her dream opportunity in Florence—one that meant the world to her—had almost crumbled. Of course she had to be angry. She'd been blindsided, left in the dark, and just face the consequences. And Jack, unable to explain, had been bound by confidentiality that forced him to perpetuate the lie.
Audrey's heart ached for both of them. She could understand Teri's anger, even if she didn't agree with it. But Jack… Jack wasn't a monster. Not then, not now. Audrey felt the need to reassure him, to break through the heavy cloud of guilt that seemed to hang over every word he said.
"Your choices don't seem so bad to me, Jack," Audrey sighed softly, her voice filled with sympathy. She wanted to comfort him, to let him know that, despite everything, she didn't see him the way he feared others did. She pictured him, offering Teri to take care of Kim, so that at least Teri could fulfil her dream.
Jack hesitated, hearing her words but not fully absorbing their meaning. "I haven't been there yet," he admitted, his tone quieter now, almost reflective. The 'mission' was just the beginning, just the spark that lit the fuse. He realized he wanted to tell Audrey where his marriage had truly begun to fail, how things had unraveled after that day. But it was harder than he thought. He wasn't sure how to explain what came after—how the distance between him and Teri had grown, how the trust had eroded piece by piece.
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Jack watched the cab disappear down the road, carrying Teri away to her dream. He had thought that once she was gone, his anger would improve, that the weight pressing on his chest would lift. But it didn't. In fact, it only got worse. The anger simmered beneath the surface, creeping into his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to push it away. His mother's words echoed in his mind: Never get angry. He could still remember the way his father's anger had turned violent, how it had torn their family apart. He'd sworn he'd never become that man, never let his emotions control him like that, at least not let them get to the surface, like his dad's. So he bottled it up, and the tension built in silence.
There had been opportunities to argue with Teri, to let it all out, but Jack had held back. Instead, he threw himself into taking care of Kim because it was the one thing that gave him some sense of control. Being there for the family in a way that had nothing to do with anger. Or maybe just showing Teri that he was better than her. It wasn't easy.
Three days a week, he hobbled to physiotherapy, working to bend his right leg again, fighting the pain. Most of the time, he used just one crutch, the other arm occupied by his daughter, whose weight he carried despite the dull throb in his still healing left arm. The bullet wound no longer hurt, not unless Kim pressed on it the wrong way. Still, he managed. For her.
When a week passed with no word from Teri, the worry Jack felt (had she even arrived safely?) was overshadowed by his growing anger (why should he even care?). They had agreed that phone calls would be expensive, sure, but he'd expected something—a minute or two to check in, to ask about Kim. But there was nothing. Each day that passed without hearing from her made the frustration burn hotter, and it seeped into everything. By the second week, the anger was a familiar presence, always there, always gnawing at him.
As his leg slowly healed, Jack began to regain some mobility. During the first two weeks, he'd been restricted to small trips—just him and Kim, making their way to the playground at the end of the road. He'd sit on a bench, surrounded by only women he barely knew, their conversations trivial and distant compared to the memories that haunted him. He'd smile politely, but his mind was always elsewhere. Finally, though, the crutches became less necessary, and he found himself walking—slowly, with a limp, but walking nonetheless.
Still, without being able to drive, he felt confined, stuck within the borders of Fort Devens. His world was reduced to a few places: the hospital for therapy, the playground at the end of the street, the base housing. He visited the larger military complex rarely, except for the day Major Hendricks had called.
Jack had been reluctant to go, his leg still stiff, and when he mentioned bringing Kim along because he had no one to watch her, Hendricks had given his approval. Even though it broke protocol, the Major hadn't cared. What mattered to him was talking to Jack in a secure environment, and as far as he was concerned, an 18-month-old child posed no risk. Kim played quietly in the corner, unaware of the conversation happening in the same room.
Sitting across from Hendricks' desk, Jack listened as the Major filled in the details of the mission—details that Jack hadn't even known until then, even after fighting through to the crashed planes. He'd be promoted to First Lieutenant, Hendricks said, almost a year ahead of schedule. It wasn't just an acknowledgment of his service, but a recognition of what he had prevented: a nuclear disaster that would have shaken the country. Without Jack's actions, those nuclear triggers might have fallen into enemy hands, and the consequences would have been unimaginable. Hendricks' words offered respect that Jack hadn't expected, also especially from the Special Forces team that had fought with his squad that day. In their eyes, he might be 'just' a ranger, but his actions had earned their admiration.
As Jack left the office, Kim sleeping in his arms, the conversation stayed with him. For the first time in weeks, his thoughts drifted away from Teri. Instead, they were filled with the mission, with the enormity of what had been at stake. Those nukes, somewhere out there—he hadn't seen them, but they haunted his thoughts. What if they had been used? What if he hadn't acted in time? The realization hit him hard: he had made a difference. A part of him swelled with pride, a feeling he hadn't allowed himself in a while. He had trained for this, for moments like these—not for the mundane garrison duties that filled his days with monotony. This was what being a soldier truly meant.
When he put Kim to bed that night, he watched her as she slept, her small form peaceful and unaware. She needed him, needed someone to protect her innocence, to make sure she could grow up in a world that wasn't shattered by violence, chaos and war. Jack thought of the countless others like him, out there, standing guard, making sacrifices to keep the Cold War from turning hot. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of purpose, a clarity about his role in the world.
Then, a few days later, Teri called.
Jack's anger, which he had tried so hard to suppress, surged back. But instead of erupting in an argument, it came out cold and passive-aggressive. His words were clipped, his tone distant, while Teri apologized, explaining how miserable she felt in Florence, how much she missed Kim—and him. But Jack didn't care. Her words meant nothing to him now.
"If you really missed her, you could've called earlier," Jack had said, his voice laced with accusation.
The conversation deteriorated from there, Teri trying to make amends while Jack's resentment simmered just beneath the surface. After a few more passive-aggressive jabs, it was clear that Teri's initial longing to reconnect was fading, replaced by frustration.
Maybe, Jack thought bitterly, she missed him a little less now. And for the first time, he realized that he didn't care.
A month had passed since Teri left, and Jack was almost back to walking normally. Almost. He'd pushed himself hard in physical therapy, testing his limits, even attempting to run a few times. But it was too soon. The sharp pain in his leg made sure to remind him of that. One afternoon, while trying to run at least a few yards in the backyard, he saw his neighbor, Heather, watching from her porch. She didn't say anything, just shook her head disapprovingly, as if silently telling him he was crazy to try.
Heather and her husband lived next door, their houses only separated by a small garden fence. For some reason, Teri and Heather had hit it off, bonding over things Jack couldn't care less about—like art. Teri had gone on about a few gallery visits she'd taken with Heather, gushing over abstract paintings that, in Jack's mind, looked like something even Kim could do better. Modern art was lost on him. It was just one more thing that made him feel distanced from Teri's world, a world that was now literally an ocean away.
So, Jack moved to the other side of the yard when he was pushing himself through a few painful yards of jogging each day, even though it hurt like hell. But little by little, the physical pain felt more manageable, and surprisingly, so did the emotional weight that had been pressing down on him since Teri left. He didn't feel as miserable as he had in those first few weeks. He'd even begun to make some new acquaintances—female acquaintances.
Kim had unknowingly become a magnet for the women at the playground. As Jack, the young, slightly limping blonde officer, showed up regularly, tending to his daughter, it was impossible for the women not to notice him. At 22, aside from his injury, he was in peak physical condition, and his devotion to Kim only added to his appeal. The fact that he was the only man among the sea of mothers with their children at the playground didn't go unnoticed either. Jack was well aware that they talked. He'd catch them casting curious glances in his direction, probably speculating about his situation—whether he was some henpecked husband stuck at home with his daughter while Teri was off seeing the world.
But that wasn't the story they saw. What they saw was a loving father who didn't mind getting his jeans dirty building sandcastles with Kim for the hundredth time. A man who never complained, but who also never spoke about his absent wife, and who seemed, in their eyes, heartbreakingly dedicated. He was damn sexy, too, and it wasn't just one or two of them who noticed.
Jack, though, didn't pay much attention to their gossip. He didn't join in their conversations—most of them were topics he had no interest in anyway. However, two of them became what he might have hesitated to call friends. Samantha, who lived in the house next to Heather's, and Vicky, the widow of Tom Reilly, Jack's squadmate who had died during the mission. Vicky still believed the official story, that it had been a training mission gone wrong. She, like the others, had no idea about the real nature of what had happened.
Jack couldn't help but feel for Vicky. Her husband's death had left her with a two-year-old son and another baby on the way. Her face always carried the shadow of sadness, of course it did. Jack hadn't seen Tom die, hadn't even seen the body after the explosion that had torn through the convoy, but he had felt the force of it. He'd heard the deafening blast that had likely turned Tom into nothing but body parts, swimming in a lake of blood.
Every time Jack saw Vicky, there was a deep, unresolved tension within him. A part of him wanted so much to tell her the truth, to lift some of the burden she carried. Tom hadn't died for nothing, not for some senseless accident during a training exercise. He had died for a mission that meant something, a mission that had prevented something catastrophic. Maybe knowing that would give Vicky some peace. Maybe it would help her grieve, knowing her husband had sacrificed his life for a cause. To die for nothing—that was something Jack couldn't stomach. But as much as he wanted to tell her, he knew he couldn't. The mission was classified, the lie was official, and he had to live with that.
He also knew he shouldn't spend too much time around them—Vicky or Samanta. People talked, especially on a military base, and rumors spread fast. Jack tried to keep his distance, but when Vicky received notice that she'd have to move out of base housing within four months, Jack couldn't stop himself from offering help. He had nothing to do but sit at home all day. She was alone, with barely any money. He couldn't do much for her financially, but he could offer his time.
Kim and Vicky's son got along well, which meant the two of them could steal moments to pack up the house, move furniture, and clear out cupboards while the kids played. For Jack, it was a strange kind of solace—manual work and small talk, a brief escape from the complexity of his own situation. But it was more than that. Jack felt a lingering sense of responsibility toward Vicky. He hadn't been able to save Tom out in the field, hadn't even been there when the explosion took him. This, at least, was something he could do—help his comrade's widow cope with the loss in whatever small way he could.
What Jack didn't know at the time was that they weren't alone. Heather was watching. And while Jack was doing his best to stay discreet, Heather had noticed his frequent visits to Vicky's house. She saw the way he helped her, the way their children played together. And she wasn't the only one to know.
Teri had been calling, just not Jack, because she didn't want to hear his passive-aggressive accusations. Whenever she wanted to check on how Kim was doing, she didn't dial his number—she called her friend Heather. And Heather, dutifully, had been keeping her informed.
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"So you cheated on Teri?" Audrey asked, the words rushing out before she could stop them. They hung in the air like an accusation, laced with the disappointment she couldn't hide.
"With Vicky?"
"Yes."
"Hell, no." Jack's voice was firm, and he looked genuinely surprised by the question. "I'd never do that to Tom."
Audrey felt a knot tighten in her chest. Tom? That was his reason? Not Teri, not his marriage—Tom. The thought gnawed at her, and she shook her head slightly, her disappointment deepening. It was clear Jack had cared more about betraying his fallen comrade than his wife. She didn't understand it. She wanted him to say he wouldn't have done that to Teri, to his family. But he hadn't.
Jack could sense her disappointment, and it stung more than he expected. It was the reason he hadn't told her until now. The same sting he had felt when Teri had confronted him with the rumors when she came home from Italy—rumors Heather had been all too eager to share during her calls. He remembered Teri's eyes, filled with suspicion, hurt, anger.
And now Audrey. He imagined her sitting there, looking at him with the same disappointment, though he wasn't even in the same room. That look travelled the 2000 miles from Washington DC and hit him.
He hadn't wanted to be seen like this by her, but it was the truth. She had to know who he really was—not the hero, not the saint she might have thought he was. Just a man. Flawed. Human. An asshole, at times.
"I did cheat on Teri," he admitted quietly, the weight of the words pressing down on him. "But not with Vicky."
A lump formed in Audrey's throat. She had wanted Jack to be better than the other men she had known—better than Paul, at least. She felt the ground beneath her shift, her image of him shattering a little. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though the question cut deep. She should have known. After all, he was her one-night stand. He had told her about more one-night stands he'd had in his life. So he must have cheated on Teri. She could have easily done the math, three days ago, when he had told her about getting married age 20. Caught up in her feelings for him, she failed to see the signs staring her in the face.
Jack stared out through the window, into the dark street, his mind churning, asking himself the same question. The silence between them grew heavy. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. "It's not that easy to say why... I can't pinpoint it to a single reason."
He thought back to what Audrey had told him about Paul, about her own marriage and Paul's co-worker who had slowly become the unwanted third person in their marriage. He didn't want to defend Paul, didn't want to compare their situations. But in the end, he knew there was no excuse. No reason that would make it right. Neither Paul's slip, nor the things he had done.
"I might be just a standard asshole," he said, the words bitter on his tongue.
Audrey didn't want to comfort him, didn't want to tell him it would be okay if he had some kind of reason, because no reason would make her feel better about it. She couldn't let him think she approved, not even remotely. But she also didn't want to believe that he was just that—a man who could betray someone he loved. "Tell me you're not," she said softly, almost pleading.
Jack had no answer. He didn't know what to say to make it right, or even if he could. So, he just moved forward, continuing with his story, hoping that showing her how things had unfolded between him and Teri would make her at least understand his reasons.
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Seven weeks after Teri had left, Jack received a summons to the Colonel's office. The message was clear—it was important. With Vicky back in Florida, looking for a place close to her parents' home, Jack had no one to help with Kim, so he took up Samanta's offer to watch her for a few hours. He appreciated it, though he didn't like pushing Kim around, handing her off to other people just because she didn't fit into his schedule. It was just one of those days when he couldn't avoid it.
When Jack arrived at Samanta's door, dressed in his class A service uniform, she couldn't help but take notice. It was the first time she had ever seen him in formal military attire—polished shoes, black tie, his jacket adorned with rank insignia, ribbons, and qualification badges. Her husband had worn the same uniform before shipping out to Panama months ago, but seeing it on Jack was different. His normally disheveled blonde hair, which had grown longer in the weeks since he'd been on leave, was neatly combed and tucked under his garrison cap. He just looked….. different.
And then there was Kim, the stark contrast to his military looks. She was quiet today, perhaps sensing the change in him, too. Even at her young age, she seemed to pick up on the shift in mood, the way he carried himself differently when he was dressed so formally.
Jack already knew what awaited him at the Colonel's office—his promotion. The pride, the sense of purpose, was just as strong as it had been the day Major Hendricks had given him the details of the mission and a heads-up, weeks ago. Jack felt this was what he was made for. Being a soldier, being out in the field. He was impatient to get back to real missions, to leave the confines of garrison life behind.
When Jack stepped into the Colonel's office, doing his best to hide his limp, he saluted with precision. He felt like he belonged here, in this moment, standing tall, ready for his next orders, though he knew they wouldn't come today. This was where he thrived, where he felt a sense of purpose.
The ceremony itself was small, but formal. In addition to the Colonel, Major Hendricks and two other Majors were present. After the customary congratulations, the Colonel even seemed to offer a subtle apology for the modest nature of the ceremony. A promotion like Jack's would normally be marked by more fanfare, but this was different. No one could know the real reason for his advancement. There could be no public celebration for a mission that didn't officially exist. No one ever got promoted for screwing up a training mission, the Colonel had said, hinting at the common lie that covered the mission. And no one would ever know that a young 2nd lieutenant had saved the U.S. nuclear arsenal from a catastrophic breach of security.
As the Colonel removed Jack's old insignia and replaced it with the silver bars of a First Lieutenant, Jack stood stiffly, shoulders squared. It was all a formality, but in that moment, there was more to it. Every piece of him wanted to be back out there, not bound to the slow pace of recovery and the suffocating routine of base life.
And then, something happened that Jack hadn't expected – he didn't even tell Audrey about it when he thought back, because he didn't want to brag.
The Colonel presented him with a small wooden box. Jack blinked, surprised, as the Colonel opened it to reveal a Silver Star. It was given for extraordinary valor, the kind of distinction that made a career. Here it was. The Colonel let Jack hold it for a moment, taking the medal out of the box. It was heavier than he had expected.
But then, as quickly as it had been given, the Colonel took it back. The award was classified. The box, the medal, everything would be sealed away for the next 30 years—or until Jack's death, whichever came first. No one could know. The ceremony was over as quickly as it had begun.
When Jack returned to Samanta's house to pick up Kim, his mind was still racing from what had just happened. He was officially a First Lieutenant now, but there was more behind the promotion than anyone outside that office could ever know. Samanta didn't notice the change in his insignia. The gold bars on his shoulders had been replaced with silver, but the difference was subtle, and her focus was on Kim.
She offered to make him coffee, sensing something different about him, but Jack declined. His thoughts were elsewhere, back in the field, back in Slide Mountain.
As he walked away with Kim in his arms, a sense of unease gnawed at Jack. There was another reason he had declined the coffee—he felt like he was being watched. He didn't yet know that Heather had been keeping tabs on him, that she had been updating Teri in Italy with her own version of events back home. But even without that knowledge, Jack couldn't shake the feeling that someone was always monitoring him, and it crawled under his skin.
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Nine weeks after Teri had left for Italy, Vicky moved out of base housing. Jack said his goodbyes with a long, heartfelt embrace that seemed too long in Heather's eyes, but for Jack, it was just right. This one was for Tom. Hugging Vicky felt like a final farewell to his fallen comrade. Vicky's departure left a strange emptiness behind—not just for Jack, but for Kim, too.
Kim had lost her most beloved playmate. Vicky's two-year-old son had been the closest thing to a companion for Kim. Samantha's daughter, Jessica, was older—five years old—and no matter how much she liked Kim, she couldn't replace him. Jessica saw Kim more like a living doll than a friend—crying, moving, and responding in ways her boring toys never could.
One day, Samantha mentioned that Jessica was attending swimming lessons at the base pools. Jack told her about the doctor's advice, that he should take up swimming, to train his leg without the strain of running. She offered to watch Kim while keeping an eye on Jessica's lesson from the café. He welcomed the chance—he hadn't had proper cardio training in months, and swimming felt like the ideal way to ease back into it.
At first, every time Jack entered the water, he was hit by unsettling memories of the hours he'd spent drifting in the river, never knowing if the Russians were close behind, if another bullet would hit him, like the one that had already hit his left arm, or if the next waterfall would take him under. Those memories clung to him, creeping into his thoughts as he swam. For the first few days, he couldn't shake them—the fear, the flashbacks. But as the days passed, the familiar rhythm of swimming began to calm his mind. And the warm water of the pool wasn't the cold river, either.
Always, five minutes before Jessica's lesson ended, Jack climbed out of the pool, dripping wet. Samantha couldn't help but notice his body, his abs, his chest that still rose and fell with his breaths.
She quickly diverted her gaze, feeling a wave of longing wash over her. She was holding Kim, Teri's daughter, and she knew full well that Jack was married. But her husband had been gone for months, stationed in Panama, and Jack… Jack was there. He was eight years younger than her, but in some ways, he felt like an old soul—someone who seemed to have seen much in his young life already, someone who carried depth in every conversation. It wasn't just his looks; it was the way he listened, the meaningfulness in everything he said.
She found herself drawn to him in ways she hadn't expected. She missed those kinds of talks, the feeling of connecting with someone beyond the surface level. And seeing him now, all wet from the pool, stirred something in her that she hadn't felt in a while.
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Audrey knew Jack wasn't telling her everything. He had mentioned Samantha briefly, just enough to paint a picture of her as a casual friend, the only one left after Vicky had gone. He spoke about her in a methodical, almost detached way—just another person who had offered to watch Kim while he trained, nothing more. He'd even told her about Jessica and how a five-year-old trying to play with Kim often led to him stepping in to keep the peace before his daughter's tears would come.
But something about the way he danced around the details made Audrey suspicious. She could feel him avoiding the real point. She had enough of the way he was skirting the truth. She wanted him to stop dodging and just come clean, to say whatever it was that was on his mind.
Without overthinking it, she bluntly asked the only question that had been festering in her mind: "Did you cheat on Teri with Samantha?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she felt a pang of frustration with herself. This is ridiculous, she thought. Every time he mentioned a new woman, the question leaped into her mind. Was it her? Was she the one he had cheated on Teri with?
Jack hesitated, and Audrey could feel her heart tighten in the silence that followed, it said everything. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet and uncertain. "Not really," he said slowly, and then after a brief pause, added, "We just kissed once."
Audrey felt her chest tighten. Jack had already admitted to cheating on Teri, but hearing him talk about it now—mentioning the woman, the kiss—made it feel even worse, more real..
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It was one of those afternoons, just after returning from the pool. Samantha had offered Jack coffee, and this time he had said yes. Kim and Jessica were getting along wonderfully in the living room, their laughter echoing through the house. It was one of those rare moments when the children seemed perfectly content, and for once, Jack didn't feel like he had to intervene. There was nothing on his schedule, as always, and he didn't want to rip Kim out of her obviously nice afternoon.
Jack hadn't consciously noticed the subtle changes in Samantha—the light perfume she had put on, or the way her smile was bigger, brighter than usual. She brushed against him when she passed by to get water, her hand grazing his arm – it felt so casual that he barely registered. What he did notice was the top she wore, the deep V-neck that left little to the imagination. It was impossible not to notice.
Samantha, on the other hand, was fully aware of the situation. She knew Teri would be back in two weeks, and she could sense that once Jack started preparing for her return, there would be no more opportunities like this. She didn't want Jack forever—she loved her husband, after all. But today? Today she wanted him. Just for a moment, just for herself.
Jack stood behind her at the kitchen counter, offering to help with something trivial, when she turned around suddenly, catching him off guard. Her lips found his, and for a moment, Jack froze in surprise. But then, without thinking, his body responded. It had been so long since he'd felt that kind of intimacy, and Teri hadn't been on his mind for weeks. He gave himself over to the moment, instinct taking over.
He kissed her back, deeper this time, his hands gripping her waist as he pushed her back against the counter. His body pressed against hers, and he felt the warmth between them grow. She could feel his arousal, and for a brief, heated moment, nothing else mattered. It felt right.
But then, as Samantha reached for his belt, something inside him snapped back to reality.
The feeling was too familiar. It reminded him of that night—July 27th, 1984—when he had first been with Teri. She had reached for his belt in just the same way, and the memory of it hit him like a wave. That was the night their life together had begun.
Suddenly, he took a step back, the reality of what he was doing crashing down on him. He regretted kissing her the moment it ended. His breath came hard, his pulse still racing, but his mind was already filled with guilt.
Samantha's eyes flickered with regret as she realized she had gone too far. She had misread the signs. She had thought he was ready, especially after months of not once mentioning Teri. But clearly, he wasn't.
Flustered, she turned back around quickly. "I'll get us the coffee," she muttered, trying to brush past the moment as if it hadn't happened.
"Don't." Jack's voice was firm, his mind already spiraling. "I better leave."
Without another word, he went to the living room, scooped up Kim, who protested, reaching for her friend as he carried her out the door. The entire way home, Kim's whining echoed in his ears, but all he could hear was a voice in his head that sounded disturbingly like Teri's. It wasn't Kim's protests that haunted him—it was the reproach, the nagging guilt gnawing at him for what had just happened.
When they got home, he focused on calming Kim, whose tantrum mirrored the turmoil he felt inside, like she could feel it, too. Once she was settled, Jack collapsed onto the couch, his mind racing. He glanced at the small notebook where he had scribbled down Teri's number in Italy. How long had it been since they'd spoken? Weeks, maybe. It felt like an eternity now.
His took the phone, dialing the number before he even realized it. It was the middle of the night in Italy.
So he sat back into the couch.
Starred into the void.
Felt sorry.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she was all he could think about.
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