October
2024

Opening her eyes, she gasped softly.

Charlie was lying on her side, curled under a blanket on a bed pushed into the far wall of the bedroom that now belonged to Levi.

She doesn't know how long she has been asleep or how she got there in the first place. All she could remember was that Gabby and Simon have been helping her walk and not faint. The vision was blurry half the time, and she had been shivering because of the cool weather tonight.

The room was dark and the spare bedroom like most of the rooms in the base was simple and built for comfort. It had gray concrete walls and a single industrial-style ceiling light that was switched off.

The bed was narrow but firm, with a simple navy sheet beneath her and a soft blanket tucked around her shoulders. A basic wooden nightstand sat beside the bed with a dim lamp, a couple of water bottles, and a small bottle of pain pills. In the corner, a desk was cluttered with cables, an old laptop, and a half-assembled drone. A duffel bag rested against the metal chair.

That might belong to Levi, she thought to herself.

She blinked slowly, trying to remember how she'd gotten there.

Her limbs felt heavy, like her body was still underwater. Her mind was foggy but no longer spinning. She could feel the soft ache in her joints and the memory of how cold her skin had been earlier.

She was safe now.

That should have comforted her.

But as she lay there, she stared blankly at the worn ceiling tile above her head, tears slipping quietly from the corners of her eyes.

She remembered the cold, steady void in his eyes when he raised the gun. Her pulse quickened at the thought of his stare—how empty it had looked.

She closed her eyes again.

But the memories followed anyway.

Shifting her eyes from the ceiling to the closed door, she noticed the dim lights. The bulb above barely illuminated the room, while faint orange streaks from the hallway light seeped in under the doorframe, stretching across the floor. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to walk through it or never see her like this.

She couldn't recall when she drifted off, but she awoke with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes opened to shallow breaths and a tightness in her chest. For a brief moment, she remained still, her mind caught in the haze between dreams and memories. Everything had slowed, like time was dragging its feet except the noise inside her skull.

The ceiling above her was unfamiliar. Smooth. Plain. Gray. Not her apartment, nor its John apartment and her childhood room.

Her body felt sluggish, like her bones were still weighed down by the drug that had numbed her limbs and dulled her senses. But it was wearing off slowly. Enough for her thoughts to sharpen slow and steady—and ache. She slowly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, the tears sticky against her skin. Her palm trembled.

Charlie sat up slowly, pushing the blanket down to her lap. Her bare legs felt cold against the mattress. She wore one of Gabby's spare t-shirts and a pair of comfort shorts. She must've helped her change. She pressed her legs together, cradling herself as if seeking solace. Her lips trembled, and with her chin resting atop her knees, she took deep breaths before releasing a quiet sob. Her shoulders shook once, then again. It came rushing back.

Not just the fear and the drug.

The way John looked straight at Charlie before Harkin when he entered that room.

He hadn't blinked.

Not even when Harkin had a blade to her throat.

He'd moved like a ghost.

There was no softness in his eyes—only devoid like he had no emotions at all.

And yet that same man was the one who carried her out and kissed her forehead. She let out a breathless sigh and laid her back down, staring above.

Charlie wiped the tears from her eyes as she slowly sat up in bed, but her mind still swirled with the memories of all that had happened in one day.

She glanced at the door, half expecting John to walk through and tell her everything would be okay.

But the door remained closed.

She was alone.

Unsure if she wanted to see him or not, Charlie slowly slid her feet to the cold floor and stood up on shaky legs. She made her way to the small bathroom connected to the bedroom and turned on the light. Her reflection stared back, eyes rimmed red, hair disheveled. She turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her face, letting the coolness soothe her swollen eyes.

Leaning against the sink, Charlie took a deep breath until something twisted hard in her gut.

A sharp wave of nausea punched through her so suddenly that her hand flew to her mouth, her other gripping the edge of the sink as her knees buckled. She barely made it to the toilet in time before vomiting, the heaving sound loud and raw in the tiny bathroom.

Her entire body shook as bile rose up her throat—acidic, bitter, painful.

Tears poured down her face not from the sickness, but from everything.

From fear.

From shock.

She clutched the rim of the toilet, her forehead pressed to her forearm as she coughed and cried all at once.

It wouldn't stop.

Another wave surged and she threw up again, her whole body trembling until the heaving finally slowed, she collapsed back against the wall, weak and trembling. Her shirt clung to her damp skin. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breathing erratic.

Her palms pressed to the cold tile floor. The chill didn't help settle the storm inside her. It only made the silence louder.

She knew stress could do this. Trauma. Adrenaline. The residual drugs are wearing off. Her hand drifted unconsciously toward her lower abdomen, resting there like it had a mind of its own. She closed her eyes.

She could remember his cold and icy blue eyes. She saw the man she had come to know over the past three months. The man she met and grew fond of, the one with whom she nearly debated global politics, and the one who had kissed and made love to her as if she were the only woman he wished to devote himself to. And she never expected that he would kill Harkin right before her eyes. The way he would stare at Harkin was devoid. It was like he never hesitated to kill him without a second thought. The way his wintry eyes and his focus steel like a laser, staring coldly at the enemy before her, those memories wouldn't go away anytime soon.

There were two Johns, the one she fell in love with and the other one who walked into hell for her.

She couldn't tell which one scared her more.

She breathed slowly, but her mind raced.

I just witnessed him kill Michael, she told herself, as if she needed to remind herself of what exactly happened since the last eight hours passed. I am a witness and yet, that should scare me to death. I could've been dead if Harkin shot me with another drug. John would do worse... oh my god... he would go crazy if anything happens to me.

"When you find that kind of love, don't run from it. Don't let fear stop you. You hold on. No matter what." A voice echoed as she remembered in the past that she never knew she would hold onto.

Her chest cracked a little more.

She missed her father.

She missed John.

Even though he wasn't far.

Her lips quivered as she shut her eyes. Charlie released a soft sob and lifted her eyes after opening them above and continued sobbing.

"Oh, god... John would do worse if I'm dead," Charlie said to herself, still in tears. "I don't know what to do, Daddy. I don't want to be a burden to him... I just got Michael killed by the same man I love. It can't be my fault, right?"

There was silence, with just her soft cry and sobs.

He looked through me. Not at me. Like I wasn't even there. Like I was just part of the mission.

Another brief silence, she covered her face with both hands and continued shaking before letting out more tears.

"No, no no no..." she continued shaking her head while the headache was still throbbing.

Is that why Mum wanted me to break up with John? Is that why Daddy hoped that I don't end up with a soldier?

"Charlie?"

She froze when she heard Gabby outside from the door.

"Are you okay?"

"Uhm..." she quickly rubbed her eyes and tried to pick herself up. "I-I'm fine!"

A brief silence was made and a sigh followed after.

"I'm coming in," Gabby said it straight and she entered. When her eyes found her in the bathroom, Charlie could barely stand on her own while her eyes were puffy.

"Charlie, hey, are you okay?"

Her question made Charlie pause, and when she opened her mouth. She let out more sobs and Gabby stepped forward and hugged her.

"Hey... hey... shhh... it's okay..."

"No... no... it's not okay," Charlie said weakly, her body shook and her arms wrapped around the tall woman like a child who had woken up from a nightmare. "Michael is dead because of me!"

She buried her face in Gabby's shoulder, trying to shut it all out—but John's cold and wintry eyes, the sound of the suppressed shot, Michael's voice... They played on a loop.

Gabby pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "Charlie, you can't blame yourself for this. Michael made his choices, not you. John made his own decisions too. He knew what he was getting himself into when he had to get you."

Charlie sniffled and shook her head, "But I should have..."

"No," Gabby cut her off, her voice firm but understanding. "Listen to me. You're not broken. And it's okay to feel like this right now. You couldn't have known this was going to happen. No one could've seen this coming. Your boyfriend called the shot, it's in his blood. It's his job to protect the ones he cares about and look out for those he's responsible for."

Boyfriend.

Charlie bit her lip and took a shaky breath. That one word almost bit her lip. The image of his cold expression as he pulled the trigger still haunted her. She wasn't sure if she could get that out of her mind soon.

"He's still the same man you know, promise," Gabby said, tucking a strand of her hair behind ear. "We all have masks, right? The one we show people every day, cold and hard, and then there's the one we remove our masks when we're alone or with those we trust," she tried to explain as best as she could. "We're not dead-ass scary, if that's what you're thinking. Those guys you met and my husband, Simon, wear them a little too well because they've been through a lot. Including me and Cameron."

She drew a shaky breath, trying to process her words.

Charlie knew deep down that John was still the same man she had come to care for, the one who had shown her tenderness beneath his stoic exterior. But seeing that cold side of him had cracked open, like it was exposing fears she never thought she'd had now.

"It's just..." she said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "... when he looked at me, it was like he didn't recognize me."

Gabby gave her a sympathetic smile. "He recognized you. He was just hyper-focused. When any of us go into mission mode, nothing else exists except the objective. Emotions shut down. But that doesn't mean you aren't still important to him."

"Is it really?"

"Yeah."

Charlie wiped at her eyes, feeling a bit foolish for the breakdown. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm being so emotional..."

"You've been through trauma. Your reaction is normal," Gabby said. "But you're safe now. We've got you."

She looked at Gabby and offered a slight smile, but a gentle knock at the door caught their attention and made them both turn.

"It's just me," came a muffled but hard but quiet and English Manchester accent.

"Come in," Gabby said and Simon entered.

He was carrying Ivory in his arms, who was half awake and asleep, with her puffy and light shaded cheeks known. The child was making soft sounds and Charlie noticed her hair was dirty blond like Simon and her eyes were dark like her mother, maybe dark chocolate type. It made her heart swell with the cuteness of the baby.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"I'm..." Charlie paused, not wanting to break down again. "Still processing everything."

Simon nodded.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you, I wish I could've taken down that wanker myself. But, your man took the shot. Least of all, he did it for my wife since she wanted him dead."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

Gabby crossed arms and sighed after she looked at Simon with a look that said, "you have to say that?" before glancing at Charlie.

"Yes, I did. Your ex was a hot mess."

"Well... yeah." Charlie said weakly, almost like she was agreeing with someone she's still getting to know.

"Michael didn't care about you," Gabby added. "But, I'm not going into details since you had a rough night. The last thing I don't want in you is to be guilty over the dead. Trust me, it's not worth it."

Charlie nodded, exhaustion hitting her again in waves. Gabby helped her move since Charlie needed to rinse her mouth before going back to the narrow bed, tucking the blanket around her once more.

"I'll come check on you in a bit," she said. "Try and get some rest."

"What about John? Where is he?"

A pause.

Gabby looked at Simon and he gave her the nonverbal cue that said, "don't tell her, she'll freak out" look.

She quickly looked at Charlie.

"He's coming back, just a tad bit late." Gabby said and smiled at her quickly.

Charlie nodded weakly and murmured her thanks before her legs gave out, Gabby caught her before helping her move to the bed. Almost like Charlie was a fragile or weak since her body was still in drowsy-mode and Charlie couldn't function (almost) right now. As Gabby helped her lay down before they left, closing the door behind them. 

She closed her eyes and drifted off again after minutes passed. She hoped the morning light would chase away the shadows and bring back the man she thought she knew.

For now, she surrendered to the pull of sleep, knowing she was protected within these walls. Protected by the same hands that could deal death without remorse. It was chilling yet oddly comforting.