Ellie

I read the letter again. For perhaps the dozenth time, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. The paper was already beginning to crinkle and thin from my constant thumbing of it. My gut told me it was telling the truth. Roman wasn't quite so sure.

Ellie. I sent flowers. I don't know if you got them. I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry for what a misguided member of my family is trying to do to you. I want to help, if you'll take it. I understand if you'd rather not. If I was in your shoes, I don't know what I'd do. We'll be at the spot you received this letter in one hour. You're a brave woman. I'd be honored to meet you. Maya.

"What you doing?" I snapped, more harshly than I meant. "You can't bring that!"

Roman looked up, surprised, cradling a rifle that looked big enough to use as a battering ram. "Why not? We don't know anything about these people. I'm not putting you in harms –"

"Not putting me!" I giggled. I couldn't help it. The tension and stress of the last few hours, days, ripped through me. "Believe me, honey, we're a long past harm's way. And besides, what kind of message does you bringing that elephant gun send?"

"A strong one," Roman replied, frowning. "That's the whole point. Nobody fucks with an AR-15. Not for long, anyway."

"No. Nuh uh. Not on my watch," I said, waggling my finger. “We're trying to make friends, not scare them off." I almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. For me, ten months ago was only last month. And for me, last month I was just a small-town reporter, working on the biggest story of my life – sure, but a story that probably wouldn't make state news, let alone get national attention. Things change fast.

"You can't be serious," he complained, looking longingly at the rifle. "I didn't mean it when I said we don't know anything about these people. We do. We know one thing – they're killers."

I interrupted him. It was becoming a habit. In fact, there was no becoming about it – I was making it a habit. "The Irish guy who gave us this letter, he seem like a killer?" I asked, my voice a mosaic of false innocence. "Because he didn't seem that way to me."

Roman toyed with the rifle's action as he spoke, and his reply was punctuated by the metallic clacking of a round being ejected from the chamber. He wrapped his fist around it and squeezed. "No, but –"

"Listen," I said, softening my voice. "This is our only hope. We can't go up against Victor all on our own, not with me by your side," I smiled wanly. "I'm a lot of things, but a soldier isn't one of them. And you were right, earlier. If we die, then our baby doesn't have a chance." As I spoke, I considered the craziness of what I was saying. Only a day ago, the idea of casually remarking about the fact that I had the baby would've seemed insane. Now it was par for the course, just another stop on this roller coaster ride. I couldn't wait to get off…

"I don't like it," Roman grumbled, his expression pained. He loaded a black magazine full of long, amber bullets as he spoke. Something to do with his hands, I guessed. "We go out there, who says we don't get gunned down?"

I spread my hands. "No one. They knew where we were, where we were going to be earlier. They didn't kill us then. Sometimes you just got to trust that someone's looking out for you." I cocked my head to one side and fought to keep his gaze. "Like I did with you…"

That sentence had far more effect than I had expected, even intended. Roman lowered both the rifle and the magazine to the dining table, and they barely made a sound as they lay flat, the rifle rocking slightly from side to side. He met my gaze frankly, without trying to hide, breaking from a lifetime of dissembling, of molding his face to hide his emotion. This time, his eyes were a window into his soul. And what I saw, hurt me. He was aching, bleeding inside. He needed a hand to hold just as bad as I did. No matter how strong he was on the outside, no matter how comfortable with violence and practiced with weaponry, no man is an island.

I walked to him and held him silently, squeezing his sides with as much strength as I was able to muster. I laced my hands together, stretching my arms as far as they would go around his massive, muscular chest, and laid my head on it, my cheek resting just under his shoulder. He smelt of hard work, of masculinity, of sweat and the faintest hint of soap. I sucked a deep breath in through my nostrils, held it for a second, and let it out slowly. The tension gripping my body seemed to dissipate with it, and whether it was Roman's presence or the breathing, I didn't know.

"I'm not good at this," Roman admitted, finally bringing his arms down to envelop my body into a deep, squeezing hug. It pushed the air right out of my lungs, but I didn't care. I could have stayed there forever. It felt safe, a refuge from the violent uncertainty my life had been plunged into. "Not being in control, the one with the answers. Hell, until you came along –"

I interrupted, a cheeky smile toying with the corner of my mouth. "Don't make it sound like you didn't have pretty big part in that…"

Roman smiled sadly, but my attempt at lightning his mood seems to have worked. "Okay, okay – you're right. But I'm serious, Ellie. I know it sounds corny, but I've always been a lone wolf, I guess. No one relying on me except myself. No one caring about me, not even myself. And then you came along, and changed all that. But what I keep asking myself is, can you just click your fingers and change your life, just like that? Will I ever be able to escape," his voice cracked. "The things I've done…"

I took another deep breath in before I spoke, savoring his deep, sweet, spicy scent. I lifted my head off his chest and looked up, searching for his eyes. He met my gaze immediately, didn't hide. "I don't know," I answered honestly. I don't know what you've done, maybe you'll tell me one day, maybe you weren't. I don't mind. But I know one thing, Roman," I said, extending my hand and prodding him in the chest with my index finger. "All you've ever done for me has been good. Okay," I grinned. "That whole kidnapping thing was a bit of a misunderstanding, but apart from that…"

He didn't smile, I pressed on.

"Apart from that, everything you've done for me has been the right thing. Everything you've done for me has saved me, given me a chance to get out of this mess. If it wasn't for my job, wasn't the fact that I was chasing after Victor Antonov long before I ever met you, then our child wouldn't be in danger. You'd never have been sent to kill me, and we wouldn't have to make this decision, whether to risk everything on a throw of the dice."

I took a deep breath.

"This is my fault." I saw him breathe then, preparing to protest, but I pressed my hand flat on his chest before he could speak. "No, it is. I didn't mean it, and I never knew this would happen, but it has, so it is. But I need you to know, want you to know, that when you're by my side I feel like we can get out of this. We can force a path out, together."

I sagged a little as I finished my impromptu, but powerful speech. Roman caught me before I stumbled. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice smiling. "You got me. Remind me never to let you go into politics, okay?"

"Believe me," I said with feeling, jutting my chin out to make the point. "That's the last thing I'd ever want to do." The comment lingered, though, lodging itself in my subconscious. If the last week had taught me anything, it was that crazier things have happened.

I looked down, toward Roman's sleek wristwatch. "Come on, it's time."

Roman cast one last, lingering look at the rifle lying next to us on the table, but to his credit he didn't so much as mention it.

I hope I'm right about this…