I watch as the ground moves further away from us and a slight sense of panic sets in. I look over at Jake, the man who asked me to save him. He sits there, reading a magazine he found lying in the compartment in front of us. He looks calm, serene even, but I know there's more to him. He's done things to people I love, he's done things to me. He's like Jekyll and Hyde. The man I watch sitting here, calmly reading like he doesn't have a care in the world doesn't seem to be the same man who has the blood of many on his hands, but he is.

He wants me to take him away from all that though, to change his life. He doesn't want to be Hyde anymore, but how can one Hyde save another Hyde? After all, I have a body count as well. Well not body count, soul count is more like it. He's ended lives, I've destroyed them. That knowledge hurts me so I sit here trying to convince myself it's simply a part of my job, it's the sick and twisted reality of being a fixer. You can't do your job without going into the dark every now and then. The falling sun shines into the cabin of the plane and blinds me momentarily, Jake notices and he reaches into his carry on and pulls out a pair of sunglasses, I decline. The golden light bathes over us and the warmth of it is strangely comforting. He bends towards me to get a better look out the cabin window. He stares dreamily out into the evening sky and the familiar, serene Mr. Jekyll makes another welcome appearance. I join him watching the beautiful sky as the day slowly fades away.

"You know it's always been my favorite star," Jake said interrupting my thoughts.

"What is?" I asked.

"The sun," he says looking into my eyes. He goes back to reading his magazine.

I can do this, I can save him. I can push him into the light. My gut tells me I can, my gut tells me he is worth saving, but I cant go with him. I'm broken.

What do I do now?

What AM I doing now?

I can't do this.

I want to turn around.

I start breathing heavy and realize I am panicking. I exhale slowly and try to calm down, try to focus on the tasks at hand.

'You ok?' He asks squeezing my hand. I face him and he raises his eyebrows, pleading for a response. He looks genuinely concerned, like he knows I have a million thoughts zooming through my mind. I squeeze back, smile at him and nod, but I say nothing. I'm tired. I can't tell him that though. I can't tell him what's in my head.

'Come here," I watch him as he moves the arm rest that separates us. He holds his arms out welcoming me. After a moment of hesitation l scoot over to him, lay my head on his chest and allow him to embrace me

'It's gonna be ok,' he said kissing my forehead. I'm so tired. Hearing those words from someone else's mouth besides my own, his familiar smell, the sound of the engine reminding me of the miles separating me from so many problems, it works and I'm able to focus. I am removing myself from the White House and I'm fixing Jake. He was put into the hole because of me. Him waking up panicked and in a cold sweat at night is because of me, so I will fix him. I will fix all of this. Compartmentalizing everything calms me and once again I am able to breath and push away the knowledge that I am not whole. The thoughts finally stop and I'm able to finally relax enough to drift off.

I wake up and see the night sky out my window. I'm still lying in his arms. The steady rise and fall of his chest lets me know he's asleep. I sneak a look at my phone. Seven missed calls. Four from the White House and three from Abby.

I consider calling one of them back. I run my finger across the screen contemplating which number to dial, although in my head I know which one I want to call.

"Don't", I hear Jake whisper. His eyes are still closed and I wonder how he knows what I'm doing.

I lift myself off his chest and face him.

He peeks at me with one eye them slowly opens the other, "don't call them", he states calmly.

"They may need me."

Jake adjusts himself, shaking off sleep. He places his hand on my knee, "Liv, you just left. They're panicked right now. You ripped the Band-Aid off and it hurts, but if you call them you'll change your mind and I don't think that's what you want to do", he gazes in my direction waiting for me to correct him. I don't.

"Can you to do something for me?" He asks.

"What?"

He leans forward and holds out his hand, "give me your phone."

"I am not giving you my phone," I laugh, the unease was evident in my voice.

Jake lets out an audible sigh and sits back in his seat, "fine...in fact call Fitz back. He will ask where you are and beg you to come back and you'll listen because you love him and you'll be right back where you started, right back in the dark."

"Loving him is not..."

"No it's not," he interrupts, "but I know the things you've done were done out of love for him. I'm not saying…" he hesitates, "the fact that you risked your life and freedom for love…it's admirable, it is, but look where it's brought you. Liv…give me your phone."

"I thought I was supposed to be saving you."

He smirks at me, "were standing in the sun together, remember? Even if one of us goes kicking and screaming."

We both laugh and I hand him my phone. Jake was right, I would have gone right back had he asked. I love Fitz. He's the only man I've ever loved. What makes me think I can just turn that off? Do I even want to? I watch Jake take the battery out of my phone. He hands the useless electronic device back to me.

"When do I get my battery back?" I ask.

"Whenever you want," he says with a shrug.

I know its not the best idea to find comfort in him right now, but in my current mental state I need it. I lay back onto his chest. His t-shirt allows me to feel the warmth of his body and the soothing beat of his heart, "how do I know you aren't keeping me away from everyone so you can keep me to yourself?"

"Would you blame me?"

I look up at him and giggle, "you wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't," he hugs me tighter, "you're saving me. I'm just...returning the favor. Like I said you ripped the Band-Aid off. It's going to be hard for all involved, but I'm going to help you through. At any time you tell me you want to go back, I won't stand in the way," he pauses and brushes away the hair thats fallen over my face, "do you want to go back?"

I think about his question and I know deep down the answer is, 'I'm not sure', but I don't say that.

"No," I whisper.

He breathes out and I can feel his body loosen, like my answer lifted a heavy weight off of him, "so... where are we going?" He asks.

I rise from his chest and rustle through my carry on. I pull out the Manila folder my father gave me with all of our travel information, I open it and search for an answer to his question, "Bermuda," I say reading the itinerary, "a place called Warwick Long Bay."

He nods, "how long?"

"Eight months, after that we can head back to DC or..." I trailed off, not really sure what our other options are at this point. I was in such a rush to get out that I didn't think through everything. Something that is not like me. I don't know why that surprises me, I haven't been myself for a while now.

"I find it interesting that you're just now asking for details," I say, changing the subject in my mind.

"It didn't matter where we were going, it's who I'm with."

We catch each others gaze for a moment. I pull his arm over me, rest my head on his chest and try to fall back asleep.