Prologue

It had really just been a slip, more than anything else. Just a momentary lapse in judgement.

She wasn't expecting the embrace, even though some part of her hoped for it, the ever-present desperate longing she suppressed with the rest of her emotions. But here, in his temporary quarters, with his arms wrapped tightly around her shaking torso, it overflowed from its repression and she embarrassingly sobbed into his t-shirt.

How, after all these years, was she expected to keep it in? That memory of him falling onto his back in the dirt and the dust, his baseball cap flying from his head as he lay still. So close to dead it still brought back a fresh wave of sobs from her chest. She could hear the staff weapon blast echoing in her ears.

She was such a mess. Such a god awful mess.

Her hands lay tightly on the back of his neck, the skin there rough from the sun and wind, and she could feel his breath on her throat, the brief touch of his lips as he hugged her closer. He smelled like salt. She sighed a ragged exhale, the air catching against the tears and spit still threatening in her mouth.

His head had shifted back a fraction and she still wasn't sure who had moved first. All she knew was that his lips were on hers, soft and forgiving, his hands shifting from her shoulders to cupping her head, palms against the back of her jaw. The kiss didn't last long, a few seconds at most, but she felt the tears dry up in her lungs as he pulled back. He regarded her for a minute, dark eyes calculated and too close to brooding. There was no regret, just immense pain.

Janet.

Janet was dead and she was throwing her career away.

His right palm slid to cup her chin, his thumb resting on her lower lip as he wiped away any trace that he was there. With a quirk of his eyebrow that was more reflex than habit, he dropped his hands, taking a step back. He didn't say anything as he lowered his gaze to move past her, giving her one last quick glance before he left the room.

They never spoke of it.