Live and Die Hard

10. Devastation

Three days. Life has given him only 3 days of happiness.
His fault. His entire fault.
He has been lost in Shade. He was busy becoming Anna's dad, getting to know her day after day.

Three days, congratulations.

He thought his life, this life with Shade and Anna would be stamped 'happily ever after'. He just hadn't check the date of expiration.
Yippi-kay-yay,  life motherfucker.

He hasn't checked. He forgot.
His job's basic. Check. 
Check the car. Check the house. Check the luggage. Check that fucking stethoscope Shade unwillingly brought from Varela's, in which they had put a tracker. The reason they found out Shade reported to the Agency the night she blewher cover. That fucking stethoscope with which he had played doctor with Anna yesterday, checking out her bunny and dolls, and her own fast heartbeat.

Anna.

He fucked up. His most grievous fault.

Shade asked for him to watch over her and Anna's lives because he was the best.

True. He was.

Put the love of his life and an unexpected child in his path and he forgets all the basic rules and routine of witness safety.
His early morning run in the wood around the safe house would have cleared his mind and focus back on his task. He would have noticed the cigarette stub, the footsteps in the mud and the broken twigs. 
He instead stayed in bed, spooned with Shade, exploring endlessly each other's body.

He fucked up. Nightmare.

He's having a nap. Shade nested within his chest. Rocked by the swinging of the hammock they are stuck in.
Cuddling is definitely is ultra fav non sexual position.

He opens an eye, blinks to get accustomed to the  brightness of the sun. 
A shadow.

Still intoxicated by  the scent of the woman asleep in his arms, deliciously dizzy with the echo of her voice, he replays in his mind what has happened this morning.
She said yes. She forgave him and his stupid stubbornness. She will be his wife soon and Anna would make a perfect wedding rings carrier.

A real professional would have heard the crack of dry branches, crashed by some heavy footsteps sooner.
An actual CIA agent on duty wouldn't have taken some rest, bare foot and unarmed.
He's not a pro anymore. He's a prey.

He nonetheless is invaded by the strong smell of cigarette that comes from his right side.

He has to wake up, he has to move. He has to do his damn job. Check on whatever threat it is.

"Shade...  wake up..." he whispers, lightly shaking her shoulder, trying to switch on his brain.

The light click of the safety lock pulled out has him violently back on Earth. 
His eyes focus on the silhouette above him and his instincts of soldier are finally back.
A tsunami of adrenaline runs through his system. Fast as a flash, he flips the hammock upside down and lands on his feet, crouched, all his muscles tensed. 
Shade's not that chance and falls heavily on the ground, screaming in surprise.

Surprise darlin'. Valera's henchmen found you.

Taken off guard, the man can't move fast enough to avoid Jack's attack.
Head first, he jumps in the guy's legs and tackles him down. Losing balance, he drops his gun which ends quickly in Jack's experted hand.

Nice to see someone lamest than him.
Yippi-kay-yay mother fucker.

His other hand already got the man's ankle rid of the hunting knife taped there, which he stabs deep in the man's thigh.