Page 28 of Stolen Salvation

Making it to the couch, Bishop let his muscles give out as he sank down. Exhaustion wrapped around him like a weighted blanket, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He had so many questions he needed to ask her, and they were playing like a movie in his head, each scenario bringing up a new theory.

Why did she push him away? Did she regret the way they’d ended or that they’d ended at all? It certainly sounded like she’d still loved him if she couldn’t bear the thought of him dying. Had they caught the mole inside MI5? Was there any hope they could fix the mess they’d made and find a way back to each other?

The last thought brought him up short. Did he want that? Could he take that risk and open himself up again? He wasn’t sure he could and that was why he needed this time to think things through and perhaps see if they even had anything left to salvage. Love wasn’t always enough, it sure as hell hadn’t saved his son.

Rubbing his hands on his knees, he pushed away those thoughts, not able to think of Freddie for too long or he’d be a mess on the floor.

Instead, he considered everything he’d heard about the reason for the shooting and circled back to the mole at the agency. His fists clenched at the thought someone had lined their own pockets, most likely with blood money, and in the process ruined his life.

As he leaned his head back on the couch, his eyes closed, he couldn’t stop his brain from hearing the anguish in Charlie’s voice when she’d described losing Freddie. He’d known she blamed herself, but she never should’ve been in that position to start with.

Sitting forward sharply, he let his elbows rest on his knees as he thought of his son, allowing his mind to remember every single perfect feature for just a moment. A child he’d loved from the minute he’d become a sliver of a possibility. He’d made so many unspoken promises to his son and broken every single one of them and, more, he’d let his wife down.

How had he not seen how much Charlie was suffering and how much pain she was dealing with? He’d seen how reckless and desperate she’d become over her job after the loss but hadn’t known how to help her. Instead, he’d let her get it out in what he thought was the best way. Wiping a hand over his face he got up and walked to the cupboard beside the fridge. Grabbing the cheap vodka he kept for such occasions, he poured two fingers, relishing the burn as it went down.

He now recognised the truth. He’d seen it, had felt that creeping fear of losing everything in the pit of his gut and hadn’t had a fucking clue how to fix it. Each day had been a round of arguments or snapped words at each other as they’d tried to navigate their grief. Instead of coming together, they’d pushed each other away until, in the end, they didn’t know how to be together at all.

In the last few weeks before the shooting, they’d been like strangers passing in the night. Sex was the only thing that had been good between them and even that had a frenzied edge to it. Each clinging to the other in the only way they knew how.

Slamming the glass down on the white quartz counter, he cursed as he thought of how he’d fucked her tonight without protection. Rutted her like she was nobody, not taking the time to worship her like she deserved. His Charlie, the love of his life, and once again he’d put her in a position of vulnerability.

She deserved better than that, better than him, and he’d always known it. Had that self-destructive attitude he’d nurtured grown and poisoned what he’d had?

Sighing, he put the glass in the sink. He couldn’t say he had it all worked out. He had no clue how he was going to broach this with her, but there was one thing he needed to do, and that was to get his head out of his ass. He’d reacted after the shooting like a child, seeing the worst in her when he should’ve stopped and asked himself some difficult questions, like why she’d done it. He hadn’t trusted her and that was the crux of the matter. He’d come to expect the worst and closed himself off and reacted when he should’ve found her and confronted her.

Knowing he wouldn’t sleep, he headed toward the tech room to see if anyone was around, his eyes peering into the doors he passed to see if he could see Charlie, but she was nowhere to be found.

Hopefully, after talking to Duchess she’d gone to try and get some sleep. He hadn’t heard the entire conversation, too shocked to hear any more for fear of how he might react.

Finding Watchdog at his station, he pulled up a chair next to him and grabbed a handful of the chilli peanuts his friend seemed to live on. “Find anything?”

Watchdog didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he shook his head. “Not yet, but I will. I’m close, I can feel it.”

Bishop smirked. “Sure that ain’t herpes, man?”

“Did you know that as well as the mouth and genitals, you can get herpes infections in the cornea of the eye? If left untreated, it can leave you blind.”

Bishop’s lips turned down in a grimace. “No, I didn’t know that, and I wish I still didn’t. Thanks for that visual.”

“You started it.”

“Yes, I did, and I’m truly sorry for that now.”

Watchdog shrugged, but Bishop saw the smirk on his face. The bastard had done it on purpose, his brain full of a million facts from the tomes he read as fast as a mortal read a magazine. Still, he was one of Bishop’s favourite people in the world and he’d helped him more than he’d ever know when he first got there. The crazy facts he spouted distracted him from his own troubles. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Fresh coffee would be good.”

Bishop saluted as he stood. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Watchdog smirked but didn’t react other than that. The man was a machine and without a shadow of a doubt, the cleverest person he knew. Social he was not, at least not outside of their group. His story was a mystery and he respected that; God knew they all had one to work here.

Brewing the fresh coffee, he waited for it to percolate as he stuck his head in the fridge.

“Find anything interesting in there?”

Bishop’s head shot up and he smacked it on the door as he jumped. Charlie was smiling, her hands in her pockets as he faced her.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”