She wrote everything down.
The words came slowly at first, she stopped often, hesitated, started writing again. But it became easier until at one point she didn't seem to be able to write fast enough to bring her thoughts down on the paper.

Tony.
I am sorry to trouble you after all this time. I can understand if you have moved on and in that case I just let you know, that I am well and hope so are you and the team.

She flinched slightly as she wrote those lines, but she had to get this out of her mind before she could go on. Give him the chance to just throw this letter away.

There is something I think you have the right to know. Something I need to tell you.
First of all I want you to know, that I do not expect you to do anything about it! Honestly. I do not mean for you to take over any responsibilities that you might feel you have. You don't. It just felt not right to keep this from you.
I am pregnant.
And the child is yours. I found out about four weeks ago. At least that was when I went to see a doctor. I think I sensed something before that and just… I am not sure. Maybe I just did not want to know.

She poured out her heart about how scared she had been and still was. About what the doctor had said and the concerns whether her former injuries might affect the pregnancy. Her own doubts. How she had never felt so much fear and joy at the same time.
She told him about the places she had been, trying to heal, trying to but the pieces back together of who she was and who she wanted to be.

I can not change the past. No one can. But we must accept it as it is and learn to live with it, not in it. There is a point when it is time to look forward. Not backward.

She had learned that in the past months. Had found the peace she had been looking for. At least parts of it. But now she had the confidence that the rest would come. If she let it.

I miss you. All of you.

Everyone back in DC. Her family. Not by blood but by the thing that probably was worth more than blood. Love. Caring for each other.
She told him that although she missed him deeply, how thankful she still was that he had left. That he had understood her. That she needed the time and that she had do go this way on her own.
For a moment she paused, reconsidered, than carefully told him about everything else.
How she had begun to worry about her safety lately. Hers and the child's.

Maybe I am getting paranoid. Maybe I have watched over my shoulder for so long that I can not stop anymore. Maybe it is a part of me that I am not able to change, no matter how hard I try.
I know, that Mossad is keeping track of me, but I feel that there is someone else. Watching me, following me. I am not sure it is safe to stay here at my family's house.

She told him that she thought about going into hiding once again, to make sure her – their – child was safe. There were many things she didn't know but at least she was sure about this: Nothing would ever harm her baby as long as she was drawing breath.
When she had no more word left, she carefully wrote her name under the letter.
Then, ever so slowly, she raised from her chair, grabbed the box of matches lying right next to the shabbat candles.

The flame was bright in the darkness that had fallen outside in the meantime, as she lit a match, carefully set fire to the pages she had written over the last few hours and watch them burning to ashes.
Maybe she was getting paranoid. But if she was right about being followed… It was too risky to write everything down black on white. Letters could be intercepted.
Her instincts had never failed her. And she would trust them now, like she had always done.
Which meant she had to be careful.
Feeling calm and somewhat relieved after she had poured out her heart to the paper and made sure no one would ever read it, she could sit down again.
It felt like Déjà-vu staring down at the pen and paper again, but this time she knew exactly what to write.

Hello Jean-Paul.
It has been too long. I am sorry about that. If you like we could meet with Ilsa and Rick? I will be there next month.
Sophie

Satisfied. She folded the paper once, sure he would understand. It would be way easier to make contact when they were on the same continent let alone the same city.
And then?
Who knew.