My love,
I still love you.
This was not your fault.
I closed the phone and slipped it into my back pocket. Brandt glanced at me but didn't comment. He knew better.
Benji hasn't paid any attention to me. His read head was bent over a laptop. His muttering told me that he was nervous.
And who wouldn't? This mission was suicide to most people. It didn't make any sense to drive, unarmed into the lions den.
But we were. Brandt and Benji volunteered to be my backups. In case, I didn't make it out, I knew that they would.
Brandt drove the Jeep silently, his face giving away none of his emotions. Sometimes, I wished that I could be more like Brandt. Less emotional. Less caring. Brandt could get the mission done without a pause.
I usually had to stop a couple times along the way to save another life.
Hunley had told me that. That I cared more about the one life than the lives of millions. But it wasn't as though I didn't care about those lives either. I just didn't see any sense in losing lives where there was no need.
"Ethan." Benji called.
I glanced back.
"Luther and Parker have us on the satellite. Parker is muttering that this is all crazy."
I smirked, "She just wanted to be in on the action."
Benji shook his head, a laugh on his lips, "Actually, she commented on how, in recent months, you've gotten even more reckless."
He said the words carelessly by they buried deep and struck a chord. I swallowed hard and forced myself to laugh in return.
It was true. I had gotten reckless these last couple months. But that was because death was chasing me. The memories of three burned faces stalked my dreams. Every time I thought that I would sleep peacefully, their screams would sound in my head.
I saw the closed eyes on the one in laying still in a hospital bed, barely clinging to life. I saw the eyes of the woman I love, sorrow and pain threatening to drown me in them. And I couldn't stay.
I had been running. Recklessly. Dangerously. Wishing for death on me instead of my children. Wishing that I had been in the car when the bomb went off. Wishing for death on the people who had killed my family.
I still love you.
Jemma's words, sent months ago on a voice message that I never responded to, rang in my head. She shouldn't love me. Jemma, who had endured so much for me, shouldn't still love me. She should despise me for taking her little ones away. For forcing her to live in a hospital room, hoping for our one remaining child to wake up. For marrying her selfishly.
I should have let her go those eight years ago. It didn't matter if I loved her right now. Or even if I loved her then. I should have let her go.
She could have found another man. Had children with him, children who would still be alive right now. Lived a life in the open, not fearing tomorrow.
Jemma deserves so much more than the life I have given her. She should still love me.
I should have let her go.
But I can't bring myself to regret her.