Tristan was woken up by guards the next morning, told to dress quickly, and lead down several halls to an empty meeting room, much like he’d met Josh in, but slightly bigger. He looked around, and then down at the cuffs on his wrists. They weren’t silver, so they were purely for show. He could easily break them. It used to be that silver was used on all shifter prisoners, but these days, that was considered barbaric, and most shifters would rather behave and get treated like humans than devolve into animals that needed bigger and better chains.

Just by instinct, Tristan stood up straight when the Captain came in. She looked at him evenly, and then nodded.

“At ease, Saint.”

Tristan sighed in relief and sat, gazing up at the Captain. He’d always respected her, she was a remarkable woman, and a much better Captain than the one she’d replaced.

“Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

“Granted,” she allowed.

“I shouldn’t have left like I did,” he admitted. “But I can’t go to jail, Captain.”

She frowned. “I’m glad you understand the gravity of your crimes, Tristan. The United States border, for example, has some questions for you. They have no evidence of your crossing.”

He winced.

“However,” she continued, “I have no intention of sending you to jail. The charges against you will be dropped. I’m prepared to grant you a general discharge and send you home, but I have a few questions to ask you first.”

Tristan was shocked, and she must have seen that from the way his jaw dropped. She seemed to relax a little, and pulled up a chair, sitting across from him.

“Why did you leave the base, Tristan?”

Tristan straightened himself and forced himself to look her in the eyes. “I witnessed my fellow soldiers murder a child, Captain. My faith in my own ability to serve and protect has been shaken to its core.”

The Captain nodded. “I’m aware of the incident you’re referring to, although my details are slightly different than yours, I’m sure. Sanchez tells me you ignored his direct orders. He is your superior, Tristan. I’m disturbed that after your long career, you still have such a problem with authority. I wouldn’t like to see you end up back in cuffs.”

Tristan cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Captain, Sanchez can suck my dick.”

She was only mildly surprised, and seemed amused, more than anything.

“Would you care to elaborate? I assumed as your squad leader, Sanchez would be able to bring you back to camp with less trouble than a stranger, but I may have miscalculated.”

Tristan snorted. “That was what Sanchez was here for? To try to convince me to come back and serve?”

She nodded sincerely. “It’s become clear you’re unwilling to do so, and after speaking to witnesses, I can’t say I blame you. I’d like to know why you hold such contempt toward Sanchez, however.”

Tristan considered that. He wouldn’t usually dig up the past, but she had asked, and since he was leaving anyway…

“It was before your time, Captain. I believe our previous Captain was transferred due to the incident in question, but Sanchez never was. I’m not aware of any disciplinary action, either. He’s remained squad leader, despite my best efforts, but I haven’t trusted him ever since.”

The Captain leaned in closer.

“You’re talking about a cover up. There’s no record of any of this in Sanchez’s profile, and I was told the previous Captain was promoted.”

Tristan made a disgusted noise and sat back.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if promotion was how they dealt with that bastard.” He cleared his throat. “This isn’t exactly my story to tell, but I’ll do my best, Captain. Years ago, our squad received a female officer. The very first night at camp, Sanchez tried to assault her, assisted by most of the other squad members, while I slept. She applied for transfer, but not before revealing this to me. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to sleep again until I’d sought some sort of justice for Garcia, and so I went to our Captain, and I threw my weight around a little, threatening to go above his head. When Sanchez received not even a formal mark on his record, I did go higher, and that was when the Captain was transferred, and you were brought in. The whole process took so long that by that time, I was pretty sure Sanchez was just untouchable. Frankly, Captain, I didn’t want to stir up shit. I had to work with the disgusting fucker every day, and he only got more aggressive toward me after he was spoken to by our superiors. I decided to come to you if I ever saw him act inappropriately again.”

The Captain listened to the whole story with compassion in her dark eyes, and Tristan knew he could trust her.

“You did your best in a difficult situation, Tristan,” she assured him. “Not all could say the same. Thank you for telling me the truth about Sanchez. Rest assured, I will act accordingly.”

Tristan sighed, and found himself opening up, now that he could talk to someone who understood the life he’d been living, and the duties he’d felt he failed in.

“To be honest, Captain, that incident, along with the death of the girl, have really made me doubt my ability to protect everybody. Even my own family. My omega is pregnant and I can’t stop thinking… what if something happens to my kid, and I’m not there to save them from it? How will I look myself in the mirror?”

The Captain seemed to consider that seriously before speaking.

“Tristan, you’ve served your country. You’ve had a long career, far past your original tour. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty, and seen worse than you ever should have. I’m afraid the worst of it has come at the hands of your fellow soldiers, and I apologize for that. I truly believe, however, that now is your time to focus on exactly that which you concern yourself — the care and safety of your own family. It’s your turn to serve at home, Tristan, and your experience in the field will leave you all the more capable of protecting your new baby and your omega. I know that your strong moral aptitude will serve you well as a father.”

Those words meant a lot from his respected Captain, and did a lot to alleviate his fears, but he still felt heavy in the heart, guilty for not doing more when he could have.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said quietly. “I’m certainly going to do my best.”

She nodded. “Before I sign your discharge papers, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Perhaps you’ll be able to glean some hope for your new life.”

Tristan was a little confused by that, but he nodded and sat back as she stood to open the door and call somebody in.

It wasn’t just one person, but three. First, a man, whom he didn’t recognize at all, and then a woman with dark skin, who wore hijab, and looked strangely familiar. Standing only to her waist, next to her, was a little girl. It was the little girl Tristan had tried to save, who he had watched die. Only...she wasn’t dead. Instead, she looked very alive.

“What...I…”

“This is Farah, and her daughter Iesha, and the interpreter I’ve had come so that you can talk to them. Iesha has told me, and her mother, how you tried to save her life, and I promised her that when we found you, she’d be able to thank you personally.”

Tristan was beside himself. His chest was tight as he knelt and offered his hand to Iesha.

“I’m Tristan,” he said softly. “It’s good to meet you. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

The interpreter spoke in Arabic, and the little girl slowly gave him her hand to shake. He shook it gently, and then stood to look at her mother, just staring into her grateful brown eyes. He had never imagined that Iesha was still alive, much less that she had a mother who had wanted her home.

Farah looked like she might speak, and then suddenly she wrapped Tristan up in her arms and hugged him tightly, and Tristan wrapped his arms around the woman, who was a complete stranger to him, and hugged her back with everything in him, feeling hope and love fill him in that one, human moment of connection, the same as it had when he’d first seen Iesha cowering away from his gun.

He smiled as he pulled back.

“Thank you,” he said. “All this time, I thought I had been unable to protect her. It’s so good to know that your daughter is all right.”

The translator spoke in Arabic again, and Farah shook her head frantically and interrupted him, speaking in much faster, fluid Arabic of her own. Tristan understood a few words of the language, but he didn’t catch any of it, and looked at the translator curiously.

“She says that you must not thank her. She says that she must thank you, and says that you are a good soldier and honorable. She says that her daughter might be dead if you had not tried to protect her, and insisted that the Captain be called. She says that she holds you in her heart, and that...you’re her son.”

Knowing that he was going to be a father himself, and knowing what he would do to protect his unborn child, he could only imagine what this kind, passionate mother had gone through. Her daughter had been shot by American soldiers, but through the insistence of one of those soldiers, the Captain had been called in time for her to receive medical attention, and live. If she felt that he was a son of hers in spirit, then he was honored.

He nodded, touching his heart.

“Thank you,” he said again. It was all he could say. He didn’t feel that he had done anything so very heroic, and he knew that if he had done his job better, Iesha might have never been shot at all. But if he’d had some part in her survival, and she was alive and well, that was something.

Right before they left, Iesha threw herself forward and hugged his long legs, and he felt tears prick his eyes but refused to shed them in front of his Captain.

“I can’t believe she survived,” he said softly, his voice tight. “I never heard…”

The Captain nodded. “It was truly remarkable. Classified, for a while, due to the publicity problems we’d have if your story got out, but Farah wouldn’t stop demanding that she and her daughter have the chance to thank you.”

Tristan fell into his seat, trembling with shock, and rubbed over his face.

“Okay,” he said softly, finally forgiving himself for everything he’d done. Everyone he’d killed at war, everyone he’d failed to protect, for Garcia, and for letting Sanchez get away with it, and for Iesha, and failing to keep her safe. He took a deep breath in, and when he let it out, he let go. “Okay. It’s done. I’m out.”

The Captain nodded in agreement, signing the documents in front of him that granted him his freedom.

“The charges will be dropped.”

She handed him one of the pages, and he stared down at it, his hands trembling. He’d done it. His life of violence was over, and finally, on his terms, he was ready to start a regular, normal family. After seeing that mother’s fear and her love for a perfect stranger as well as her daughter, he knew he would hug his new son or daughter extra tight, and pray every day that he would make Josh just as proud of him.

“Do you have someone you can call to pick you up?” the Captain asked, and Tristan nodded numbly, finding it hard to believe.

“ Captain, I can’t thank you enough.”

She shook her head, and gave him a salute.

“Thank you for your service, soldier. Be sure to send me baby pictures.”

Just like that, she left him to start the rest of his life.

* * *

Most of his fellow soldiers, Tristan had noticed, seemed to enjoy a cut-and-dry mission like this. Enter the town, kill any rebel forces still leading a resistance, clear the buildings. Those were their orders, and Tristan found them more complicated than they should be. After all, as in most war zones, the line between ‘rebel forces’ and ‘civilians’ seemed to be wavy, drawn in loose sand, and constantly moving.

“Saint,” Sanchez’s voice called, and Tristan ignored him at first. “SAINT!” he bellowed.

“Eh?” Tristan asked, raising his head to look at Sanchez with blatant disregard.

“Clear that west ruin, it’s barely two floors.”

“Roger,” Tristan sighed, although he hated taking orders from Sanchez. He just had to hope, as counterintuitive as it was, that the bastard got promoted soon. Then Tristan would get to lead the squad, and never have to hear from Sanchez again, if he was lucky.

He trotted across the sand, his rifle trained on the building in front of him, which was very small and mostly crumbling. Sanchez was right, there wasn’t likely to be anyone in that building, but it still had to be cleared.

Only when Tristan stepped through the doorway.

She was so small. That was Tristan’s first impression of her, how tiny she was, her brown, dusty hands so tiny as she held them up in the air, begging him in her own language not to shoot.

As she began to cry, every instinct in Tristan told him to put his gun down and protect this child, as terrified as she was of him. Silently begging her not to be afraid of him, Tristan let his rifle drop to his hip and stepped toward the little girl.