"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 4: Decision

My faltering step balanced itself right back on the uneven earth of my mountain. Arms flailing, I countered the fall at the last moment, bringing me home again. Stability.

Rooted.

One more push from Price's insistent words, though, could mean my demise. There was no room for error.

"I-I can't," I spoke, ridges lining my brow. "I can't even read this damn letter that's searing a hole in my pocket without feeling like I'm going to throw up. I can't even begin to imagine what kind of visceral reaction I'd have going back to base."

Would his tea still be in the cupboards?

Would they have kept his kettle, perched on the eye, ready for him to come home but growing rust instead?

Who took his room?

'Stop it, stop it, stop it-'

"Never know if you don't try. It's been over a year. I'm sure he'll'd've want you to do the right thing."

The right thing...

Was what exactly?

My heart pulled me to stay here where I'd be safe. Meanwhile, my mind argued that enough time had passed, agreeing with Price. Which would win the fight?

Another contestant crept up, a dark horse since no one expected it. Its stained hand curled around the same rope with which Price and I were attempting to play tug-of-war and waited so patiently. It imbued an eager patience, ready to pull me down once Price said the right words in the right manner.

Bloodthirst.

A rare sensation but frequent enough as a visitor that I recognized it immediately. Just another thing for me to grapple with while I fought to maintain a strong hold on my equilibrium from atop my mountain.

Hot bile bubbled against the lining of my esophagus just thinking about how things stayed the same but would be... so different. The colors of the walls were probably the same military beige, but someone else's sheets would be blanketing over his bed. The clothes hanging in his closet would fit just perfectly to a different body, the wrong person.

My response shot back just as quickly as my nimble hands were able to fling a throwing knife into a hostile's bulging neck. "A year might have passed, but I'm still fucking broken up about it. Believe it or not, I lost someone who, I dunno, I could spend the rest of my life with? Who I thought was good for me? In another universe, I could have settled down and popped out a couple of kids, but that will never happen."

Tears, just as blistering as the bile, brimmed at my waterline, and I'd never felt weaker than now in front of Price.

"I wouldn't say never," the Captain tried to assure me, but all it did was stoke my rage.

"I would!" My tone held nothing but spitfire, lava on my tongue. "I feel guilty moving on, finding someone else that might be a comparable option. That would understand my past and not get traumatized just hearing about it. That would just- fuck! I don't have to explain it to you. No one gets it."

That might have been a stretch, but in the grand scheme of the whole scenario, nobody understood me quite like Simon did.

Our lives had been on two different spectrums of trauma. On separate sides of the scale, we met in the middle, a common ground, where we empathized with one another.

While his childhood had nothing but hell, I had no complaints about mine.

The life of a soldier had been a calling for a sense of belonging for him while I ran away from a god-awful husband who showed his love with his fists and sharp words.

Once again reminding me that I'm always running away...

I hated the way Price looked at me. An understanding, undeniable sympathy, softened his expression. I didn't want his damn sympathy. I wanted him out of my house. "I understand, soldier."

"I'm not your soldier."

"Yet."

"Yet," In an almost agreement to it, I automatically repeated, stopping mid-stride. With an index finger pointed at him, I spoke, "No, no. You don't get to do that to me, put words in my mouth."

His smug smirk told the both of us that he was winning. One foot slid off the summit, the opposite knee catching my fall, and the mountain beneath me shook with such force that it felt like it was siding with Price.

"It's worth reiterating that once I leave, there's no promise that someone else will find you, too. If they found themselves able to get to Russia once, they can come back."

Something knocked me from behind, and my one foot not hanging off the edge of the mountainside untucked itself, and I slipped. Before I could begin my long descent, my nervous fingers caught onto the corner of a container labeled 'Service'. My memories of a time before the Shadow Company. That box was buried somewhere nearby, waiting just as patiently for me to use as the thirst for blood.

"Then, I'll move." Either way, my life was about to be deracinated. Every fake aspect of my life that I've fabricated, now worthless.

He sighed. "And then they'll just follow you there, too. You don't want to keep running until you're caught, do you? Stop running and fight this head-on with me. With the team I know you want to return to."

Heart pounding, I willingly let go.

It was a losing battle, and I raised my white flag as I fell.

I squeezed my eyes shut so I could hide from the satisfied expression he was bound to give with my next question, "If I were to come with you, when would we leave?"

The ruffle of clothing rubbing together told me he shifted in his seat. "Right after you pack your bags. I'm hoping to make it back in time for a meeting."

With a sigh, I peeled my eyes back and regretted it immediately.

Yup. There it was. The look of triumph raised his brow and lifted the corners of his lips. He had me right where he wanted.

I gestured around to the room we occupied. "What about my life here? I can't just leave everything behind."

"It's a now or never kind of situation, dear. I won't be back, but I can't promise that people weren't following or tracking me. Eventually, you will be found again, but if you come with me, right now, protection can be more guaranteed."

My chest rumbled with a frustrated sigh.

The surrender had seemed more treacherous than I anticipated. It didn't hurt as I imagined, but it also helped that something less dense than the ground had caught my fall.

Blood-stained hands tightly gripped my body, securing my knees and steadying my breathless chest. They were not hands I'd wanted to wrap around me, but surely they'd keep me safe this time around.

"Fine. But the second that I can't handle it, I'm leaving."

He sent a curt nod in agreement toward me. "Fine with me." His contagious smile warmed the room. "Welcome back to 141."

Too bad my nervousness made me immune to showing the same satisfaction.