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1
Gunfire raged all around them.
Alex leaned out of cover long enough to take down two enemies. Farah used his fire as cover to take out three more. But like cock roaches, they just kept slithering out of the woodwork. A pounding started up on the door they'd blocked on the floor below, adding to the noise.
"We need to get out of here," Alex called out.
"You think so, eh?"
The sarcasm was obvious in her tone, but instead of shutting him down, it ramped him up, a grin spreading over his face. He rolled to the opposite side of the door frame currently providing them with cover and shot her a wink.
"I do think so. In fact, I have an idea. May I please have a grenade?"
Whatever dubious thoughts she might have about her new American partner's sense of humor, the past week had obviously taught her to trust his competency. She grabbed a grenade from her belt and tossed it to him without hesitation.
"Thank, sweetheart. Give me a bit of cover fire?"
Alex was dying to know how she'd reacted to his words, but he didn't have time to check because she was already shooting. He focused on the fuel barrels on the opposite side of the street, just under where the majority of their enemies were holed up.
With a click, the pin slid loose. The afternoon sun glinted off the metal peeking out from under the chipped paint of the barrel, and he used it as a marker to line up his throw. The grenade arced through the air, the sound of it hitting the ground lost to the roar of gunfire and the pounding on the door below. Alex darted back across the doorway, taking Farah with him to the far corner of the room. He curled his body around hers, using the thick walls surrounding them as protection.
Between the grenade and the barrels, the explosion rocked their building. The roar of gunfire was replaced by the roar of flames and shrill screams.
Alex's ears were ringing as he pulled back, sounds muddy as if he'd been dunked under water. Farah smacked his shoulder and ducked past him, waving for him to follow. They jumped from a window on the top floor, soaring across the narrow alley and into the open window of the house next door. Someone hiding in a corner let out a muffled cry, and Farah lifted a hand to reassure them and indicate they should cover their window. As they passed out of the room, Alex saw a woman run to the window to lock the shutters.
The remainder of their enemies were still furiously pounding on the door of the house next door and shouting obscenities at them. They stole out of the building and crouched low to stay out of sight.
The sun slanted between buildings, creating long shadows interspersed with golden light. He'd memorized the city maps, but he had yet to learn the layouts of the houses and businesses in the innate way Farah knew them. She wove in and out of the buildings with ease, leading them to a safe house and weapons cache that was hidden enough to pause until nightfall.
The sounds of the city were still slightly muffled, but he'd regained enough of his hearing to recognize the door closing behind them, followed by Farah's low tone. He glanced up from reloading his pistol to find her staring him down, hands crossed over her chest.
"That was good work with the grenade," she said. "A bit close, but it let us get away without being seen."
"A win, yeah?"
"Yes. But Alex"—she took a step closer, forcing him to tilt his head down to maintain eye contact as she lifted a hand to poke him in the chest—"I am not now, nor will I ever be, your 'sweetheart.'"
Alex rubbed a hand over the sore spot where she'd poked him and pressed his lips together to hold back another smile. Of all the things that might come of this confrontation, he didn't want Farah to think he didn't respect her knowledge and authority, even if he did like to tease her now and then.
"Sorry about that. It was just a bit of banter." He moved his hand over his heart. "Forgive me? I promise I meant it with the utmost respect."
Farah's eye roll in reply was like winning the lottery.
2
Alex woke with a jolt and shot upright in his bed before sinking back down with a groan. Weeks in a hospital followed by weeks of physical therapy—with and without the new prosthetic—had left him out of sorts.
Oh, and there was always that deserter title hanging over his head.
Not that he regretted his decision to give up the CIA and stay with the ULF. He'd planned to give his life for the cause in that explosion, after all. It just made things more difficult when it came to interacting with foreign military units.
He twisted his body to sit on the side of the bed. He was still getting used to the loss of his leg, but every day his movements were quicker. More fluid. The exercises were helping, as was getting back to his normal workout routines.
The windows were dark, and a tap of his phone showed it was just past 0400 hours. The small room was barely big enough for his bed, a table, and a small wardrobe, but he was glad to have a place to call home while laying low—all thanks to Farah and the ULF.
A slight scraping came from the other side of the closed door. Alex tensed. Carefully, he picked up the prosthetic off the floor and attached it. His steps were silent on the thick rug. He wedged himself into the narrow space between the door frame and the wardrobe before easing the door open to peek out.
In the yellow light of a small lamp, he saw Farah standing at the kitchen counter, pulling items out of a cloth bag. His shoulders dropped, a soft exhale escaping his lips.
She turned and met his gaze. "Did I wake you?"
"Maybe," he said as he fully opened the door to join her in the combination kitchen and sitting room. "Just as likely it was the nightmare, though."
"Still about the explosion?"
"Probably gonna be for the foreseeable future."
Farah hummed as she took the last of the items out of her bag. The counter was now full of fresh fruits and vegetables, a large bag of rice, and a few packets of spices.
"I'm honored the commander of the ULF is bringing me groceries," he said with a teasing tone.
Farah snorted as she turned to lean back against the counter, folding her arms over her chest. Her head was bare, hair pulled away from her face in a loose braid. Alex felt a pull in his chest and licked his lips.
She was beautiful.
And way out of his league.
He took a seat at the table to her left and leaned back against the wall. The space was small, holding just a kitchenette, a table with two chairs, and a plush chair and side table on the opposite wall. As far as places to lay low while labeled a deserter by the American government, though, it was positively fancy.
The rare moments when Farah found time to visit him made the place feel like a palace.
"I came to talk," she said.
Alex lifted his brows. "At 0400 hours?"
She glanced out the darkened window to her right before meeting his gaze with her usual steady regard. "I need to be back on base by sunrise."
"Ah."
He was officially a rogue operator, and the ULF couldn't publicly claim him without making themselves more of a target. But Farah had made it clear from the time he was lucid enough to understand her that he would always have a place at her side.
He was grateful. And maybe something more than grateful. But no one else needed to know that—not when he wasn't even sure of it himself.
"I have a proposition for you," she said. "You don't have to answer right now, and we couldn't make it official until the heat dies down a bit from your... exit from the CIA. But the others have asked, and I need to make a decision soon."
"You've got me on tenterhooks, commander, though I think you know you could ask anything of me and the answer would be yes."
That earned him one of her rare laughs. His heart leapt in his chest.
"Yes, you proved that in Barkov's factory. I told you then, and it is just as true now. You're a freedom fighter, Alex, and I need a skilled operator like you. Someone loyal and dedicated to the cause." She paused, her jaw tightening for just a moment before continuing, "That's why I'd like you to be my second in command."
And suddenly, her tight posture—more than normal, anyway—and gritted teeth made sense. She was thinking of her brother Hadir. To her, he was a lost cause, and not just because he was locked in prison. It was a deep betrayal, and Farah would never trust him again.
Alex ached for her and everything she'd lost just trying to keep her country safe. And if he could spare her a bit of worry by having her back, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
"I'm honored, and I accept," he said without hesitation.
"You don't need to—"
"You said you needed to make a decision. So consider it made."
A half smile curved her lips, and Alex smiled back. The quiet of the early morning was peaceful, though he knew from experience peace was a fleeting thing. Better to enjoy it while he could. As soon as he was well enough, he had no doubt Farah would put him to good use, "deserter" status or not.
"Are you sure?" she finally said, her expression morphing into concern. "It's possible the CIA will change their minds the next time they need someone with your skills. You might be able to go back."
Alex shrugged. "It's like you said. Loyalty is necessary. And I'm not going to give my loyalty to a group that would so easily turn on its allies. I'm here to stay, sweetheart."
Farah blinked and then threw her hands in the air. "I take it back! I'm leaving. You're on your own."
He laughed as he stood up to block her exit, and without thinking, he grabbed her upper arms. She stiffened in his grasp. He let go instantly, his laughter dying out as he lifted his hands in supplication.
"Sorry! Sorry, about that. I was just excited."
Her gaze narrowed as she crossed her arms again. "I thought I made myself clear the last time. I am not your sweetheart."
No. She wasn't. He needed to remember that, no matter how easily the word rolled off his tongue.
No matter how much he meant it in his heart of hearts.
"Got it," he said with a wobbling smile.
Her expression softened the tiniest bit. She tilted her head until she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Be sure that you do. I will not be undermined."
It was Alex's turn to blink, his mouth dropping open in surprise. "What? No... Farah... I hope you know I would never do anything to weaken your position. You're my commander, and I'm here to support you every step of the way."
She dropped her arms to her sides. "You have a strange way of showing it."
"Have I ever said anything like that in front of the others?"
She frowned before slowly shaking her head. "Not that I recall."
"That's because it's just between the two of us. It's... it's banter. Friendly conversation for no one else's ears."
She raised a brow and pushed him gently away from the door. "How about for no one's ears, full stop?"
Alex forced out a laugh, though his heart was in his throat. "As you wish."
She nodded. "Get some rest. We'll talk more soon."
The door clicked shut behind her. Alex stared at it for a long time, the quiet no longer as peaceful without someone to share it.
3
The night was cool. Farah had slapped a scarf against his chest just before the op, and he gladly wrapped it tighter around his neck as he piloted his tiny camera drone over the enemy base. They were in stealth mode, doing recon for Price and Laswell, but the intel they'd been handed was faulty.
The guards that should have been making regular rotations were busy heaving crates and boxes into trucks.
"They're already moving out on my end," Alex whispered into his comm.
"Same here," Farah replied.
She had taken up position on top of a building opposite of him, but something in her tone set him on edge.
"Change in plans?"
"Yes. I'm going in."
Alex's heart plummeted to his knees, but he kept his voice steady as he asked, "Are you sure? We don't have back up for this one."
"If you keep an eye out with that fancy drone of yours, we won't need back up."
Despite his unease, Alex moved his drone to Farah's side of the compound. He trusted her judgment and skill, but a part of him also trembled any time she threw herself into danger.
And yet he loved watching her work, her body fluid and graceful as she kept to the darkest parts of the path. He walked her though the base, helping her stay hidden as she worked toward the central building.
As the guards filled each truck, they hopped in the cabs and drove them out through the main gate, leaving the base increasingly quiet. Alex ground his teeth at the missed opportunity. But if they could figure out where their enemies were going, they might be able to catch them the next time.
"There's a discarded head wrap on the crate to your right," he said. "Might be useful for staying undercover."
Farah made the detour and wrapped the scarf fully around her own. And not a moment too soon.
"Two trucks heading for you. Stay to the right and keep your head down."
The trucks didn't slow down as they passed, but Alex kept an eye on them as he guided Farah to the least used door in the main building.
"I'm going in," she said. "Keep me informed if anything unusual happens outside."
"Same to you on the inside."
The two trucks drove to the far end of the compound before stopping. The back doors opened, revealing empty interiors aside from the guards driving the trucks. Alex directed his drone as close a he dared and scanned the crates they began loading into the trucks.
It was food, he realized. They really were abandoning this base.
"I've got two here," Farah murmured. "They're gathering up office equipment. I'm going to try to steal some intel."
Nearly all the other personnel had left. Alex retrieved two trackers from his bag of tricks and packed up the rest of his gear with smooth, efficient motions. On the way down the stairs, he tapped Farah on the comms.
"It's dead out here. I'm gonna put trackers on the last of the trucks and then come to you."
"Acknowledged."
He darted between shadows to reach the trucks, the muffled clangs of the crates against the truck bed covering the sound of his approaching footsteps. With both guards loading the food, it was simple to place a tracker under the front of each truck. He would've liked to put one in the food crates themselves, but it was too risky.
Leaving the truck behind, he headed for the central building. As he eased into the building, a strangled shout rang out, echoing off the high metal ceilings and making it difficult to track. The sound of a scuffle followed.
"Farah!" he hissed into the comm. "Where are you?"
"Busy!" she replied.
"Not an answer," he grumbled to himself as he darted between makeshift walls and through half-empty offices.
Another shout came from just ahead of him before it cut off with a gurgle. He slammed against the wall and peered around the corner, scanning for hostiles.
"Two targets down," Farah gasped into the comms. "Alex, I..."
Alex rushed around the corner. Two bodies were on the ground beside a row of desks. Farah knelt between them, hand pressed against her side. She looked up.
And then collapsed into a heap.
"Farah!"
He sprinted to her side and rolled her over, praying to any god that would listen for her to be okay. She groaned, her eyes fluttering as he pressed a hand down over a shirt already wet with blood. Panic rose up like a flood, carrying him away before he could think to steel himself.
"Hey. Hey now, sweetheart," he called out in a trembling voice. "I need you to talk to me, okay? Give me a sitrep."
"Not. Your. Sweetheart," she ground out through gritted teeth, her eyes opening just enough to glare at him.
Alex's laugh juddered with nerves as he ripped open his tac vest and pulled out a hemostatic pressure bandage. "And you can berate me all you like about it, but you've gotta live through this first. I'm gonna lift your shirt to put a bandage on, okay?"
She took a few short breaths through her nose before nodding. He lifted the pressure and pulled up her shirt.
The wound started at her ribs and sliced downward into her torso. The sight wasn't pretty, but it also served to steady his nerves.
"You're grimacing. Is it that bad?" she asked in a strained voice.
"You'll live, but you need stitches. This will have to do for now."
He placed the bandage on the deepest part of the wound, just above her hip, and pressed down. She half growled, half screamed behind closed lips, her body trying to arch off the floor into his hand.
When her breaths evened out a bit, he said, "We need to get out of here. Did you find any information on their movements?"
Farah nodded toward the desk. "Thumb drive. Should be done copying. We can..." She huffed a breath, squeezed her eyes closed, and pressed her head back into the floor. "We can put their knives... in their hands. If we're lucky, they'll... they'll think the two of them killed each other."
"If not, we've got trackers on the trucks. We'll get them, one way or another. Here, hold down on this."
Farah was breathing hard, but she didn't hesitate to press down on her own wound, managing to contain her reaction to a controlled exhale this time. Alex checked the drive, found it was finished copying, and pulled it out of the computer. He threw the hostiles' knives near their bodies and came back to Farah.
"Ready?"
"Do it."
He grabbed her free arm and hauled her up. She gasped and clung to him.
"I should have shot them," she growled.
Alex laughed softly. "No, no. Stabbing was the way to go. There are still at least two more people outside. Now come on. You need medical attention."
"So says Mr. Sweetheart. Why do you—" She cut off and groaned as Alex adjusted his hold to open the door. As they emerged into the darkness, she lowered her voice. "Why do you insist on calling me that?"
Alex's heart, so recently tested by his brief panic, thundered in his chest anew. "A sign of respect?"
She snorted and then hissed. Alex huffed a quiet breath of laughter.
"It's subconscious, I guess. I never mean to. It just comes out when I'm not thinking."
"But... why?"
He wanted to be honest. Fuck, did he want to be honest. But they'd been working together for more than a year now, and she'd never given him any indication that she felt more than loyalty and respect for him. Hell, for all he knew, she wasn't even into men. Their lives were a series of ops and missions for ULF, Task Force 141, Warcom... the list went on and the demands never stopped. It would be the height of selfishness to put his feelings on her.
And yet he couldn't bear for her to think that the word meant nothing to him. That he used it for just anyone. It was his word for her and her alone, and she deserved to know that.
"Because it's how I think of you."
She didn't respond.
Not when they limped along toward the edge of the compound, the scuff of their boots loud in the sudden quiet.
Not when Alex kicked out the fencing from where they'd propped it up several hours ago, Farah wheezing as they squeezed through the small hole, her body beginning to shake in his grasp.
Not even when he shoved her into their vehicle, raced toward the nearest field base where a medic waited for them, and handed her off to the woman in charge.
She glanced back at him as they pulled her into a private room, her expression clouded, brows furrowed—whether with confusion or pain, he didn't know. Before she disappeared, she nodded at him.
All he could do was nod back and hope to god he hadn't ruined everything.
4
The room was dark inside when he opened the door. He nearly shut it again before the scrape of fabric against fabric made him pause.
"Farah?"
"Come inside or go away. Either way, shut the damn door."
Alex stepped inside and closed the door. He knew the layout of the room well enough, though not for the reason he would've liked.
Nothing had come of his moment of honesty beyond perhaps a slight softening of Farah's typical stoicism around him. And Alex had managed to keep the word behind his teeth in the months since then, only indulging in the privacy of his mind—stupid fantasies that weren't even satisfying because he knew the real Farah would never follow such trite scripts.
No, he was familiar because his room was just down the corridor and was set up in a similar fashion. And because occasionally he'd come get her for a meeting or dinner or to work out and would catch a glimpse.
And... none of that meant anything right now, because Farah was hurting, and he had no idea how to help.
He stepped to the side and leaned against the wall. The purple light of a setting sun crept around the curtains, leaving the room in twilight. His eyes gradually adjusted, and he met her gaze head on.
Not pushing. Not demanding. Just there, in case she needed him.
She seemed to understand his intentions.
"I'm fine. You don't need to hover."
"Tell me to go, and I'm gone."
The silence that followed was telling. She turned to her back and threw a hand over her face.
"I thought... I thought I'd reconciled myself to it," she whispered.
Sympathetic tears glazed his eyes. He dared to take a step toward her, and when she didn't tell him to stop, he moved to sit on the edge of her bed.
"I'm not sure anyone could be reconciled to a betrayal that big... and the end of all hope for redemption."
"There could never be redemption. Hadir betrayed us." Her voice hardened. "Betrayed me, his own sister. He became what we spent so long fighting against. And many good people died because of it."
The strain in her voice belied the angry words. Alex took a slow, silent breath and reached out to slide his hand over hers where it rested on the mattress between them.
Instead of pulling away, Farah curled toward him. She took her hand away from her face and pulled the back of Alex's hand to her forehead instead.
"Promise me," she choked out, "that you won't do that to me. It's hard enough to keep everything locked down when you're in danger. I don't think I could survive another betrayal."
"I promise," Alex said in the sincerest tone he could manage. He turned his hand and cupped her cheek. "I'd rather die than betray you."
Dark, red rimmed eyes flicked up to his, and to his surprise, she curled further forward and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face hard into his torso. Her back heaved, though her sobs were heartbreakingly silent. He kept a hand on her hair, smoothing down the back of her head, and slid his other hand down to support her back.
"That's it," he soothed. "Let it out..."
His words continued in a soft litany of support. The sentiments blended together, his voice calm in spite of the tears sliding down his cheeks. As her heaving died down into occasional hiccups, the words took on a life of their own, his emotions spilling into promises he had no qualms in giving. Assurances he meant to the very depths of his soul.
"I'm here for you. You can count on me, sweetheart. I promise you."
A watery laugh emerged from where her face was pressed to his stomach. He blinked. Then he laughed along with her.
"I did it again, didn't I?"
"Mmhmm," she hummed.
"It's the price of my undying loyalty, I guess. Can't seem to help it."
"Because it's how you think of me," she whispered.
Alex's throat tried to close on him, but he managed a quiet, "Yeah."
Farah squeezed his waist before sitting up and turning away to find a tissue. When she turned back, her eyes were drawn to the wet spot on his tan shirt.
"I suppose it's worth it," she murmured. The side of her mouth ticked up in a half smile as her gaze flicked to his. "Thank you for this. I've held so much inside for so long, even I began to believe the rumors that I was made of stone."
Alex huffed a laugh and dared to reach out and rub the backs of his fingers across her jaw before dropping his hand. "I've seen how much you care, Farah. You take on so much, but I can help you carry it sometimes, you know? If you want."
"I will consider it."
Her tone was somehow harder and softer than he was used to. He nodded and stood.
"That's all I ask."
As he turned away, she reached out to grab his hand. Her gaze was piercing even in the semi-darkness.
"I will see you in the morning. Yes?"
He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Wouldn't miss it. How else will I get my daily allowance of humble pie as you pummel me into the mats?"
She huffed a laugh and squeezed his hand back before letting go.
Her eyes were still on him as he left the room.
5
It was the pain that woke him, his body bruised and his limbs sprawled out in awkward positions on the cold floor. Too well-trained to groan like he wanted to, he simply opened his eyes.
Closed them.
Opened them again.
Either he'd gone blind, or he was submerged in utter darkness. Not a promising start.
He controlled his pained hisses as he straightened his limbs and carefully sat up. The stinging on his thigh was just a shallow knife wound, but the throbbing ache in his right forearm had him worried. He carefully wiggled his fingers and breathed a sigh of relief—likely not broken, then. Possibly fractured, though.
Right. Time to do an inventory.
His weapon was missing. Unfortunately, so were his comms, though his vest seemed to be intact. The noise of his search hadn't sounded any alarms, so he pulled out his torch and clicked it on. A quick scan of the area in front of him revealed nothing but bare floor all the way to a concrete wall that appeared to be curved. He pushed to his feet, the prosthetic tweaking his limb a bit in the process, and scanned along the wall for a crate, a vent, a door, or—
"Farah!"
He sprinted across the space between them, slamming to his knees at her side. She was facing away from him, her head scarf drenched in blood.
"Fuck! Please, please, please don't be dead."
He reached around to wiggle his fingers between her layers. The first touch of warm skin sent a physical burst of relief spiraling through his limbs. He was almost weak with it. The steady thud that pushed against his fingertips confirmed his relief, settling into a need for action.
He gently straightened her body until she was laying on her back. The scarf was covering a head wound of some kind—he didn't remember her getting hit, but then again, much of their run in with the Konni soldiers was a blur.
They weren't even supposed to be here, but Farah, of course, couldn't resist a call for help. It wasn't her fault it turned out to be a clever ambush.
The blood had already dried to the head scarf, so instead of trying to remove it and potentially causing more damage, he made it into a makeshift bandage around her head. He did a cursory search for more injuries—he wasn't a medic, but four years with the ULF had taught him to pay attention to basic first aid. It seemed the cut on her head was the worst of it, though he was disappointed to find her weapons and comms were missing as well. She was still out cold, so he stood and flicked the torch light around the room.
"Time to find a way out of this hole," he muttered.
He walked the perimeter of the room and found the door behind a wall that curved like the room, which was why he hadn't been able to see it from his place on the floor. Not that it would do them any good—it was a heavy steel door with a wheel lock that wouldn't budge. By the third try, his forearm was protesting the movement, so he continued his search, this time looking up for any vents or alternate escape hatches. All he found was a steel ceiling that seemed as impenetrable as the door.
A soft groan brought him back to Farah's side in seconds.
"Farah?"
"Wh-what happened?"
"Not sure. Just woke up myself a few minutes ago. How do you feel?"
"Like I've been run over by a tank."
"Situation normal, then?"
Farah huffed out a pained laugh. "I suppose so."
"Can you stand?"
It took a few minutes of working up to it, but finally, Farah was walking next to Alex as they made another circuit of the round room. They double-teamed the wheel on the door, but it still wouldn't move. They made another slow turn, scanning the walls and ceiling.
Finally, they were forced to admit that there was simply nothing to find. Wherever they were, the steel door was the only way in or out, and they had no way to breach it. They moved back to the door and sat down against the wall.
Alex passed his canteen to Farah. She took a drink and handed it back before motioning to his torch.
"You should turn that off until we figure out what to do."
He complied, and they were plunged into darkness. His butt was already going numb from the cold floor, but he was too tired and sore to do anything about it.
"Is your watch working?" Farah asked.
He checked and found the face was cracked, but the read out was still legible. "Yeah, it's about 2100 hours, same day."
"So we've been out a few hours. Care to bet on when we'll run out of air?"
"I could do the math if you want."
She groaned, but he could hear the reluctant humor in it. "Of course you could do that in your head."
"Won't matter. We'll get out of here before then."
"Will we?" Farah asked.
Her voice sounded tired, but not just in the physical sense. Weariness of a deeper sort—soul deep, his grandma would've said—edged her words like a knife, cutting a little deeper every time she ordered someone to their death or received word of an attack. She wanted to be a protector. To make a safe place for her people to not just live but to thrive.
She was strong, but sometimes the weight of her choices ground her down into the dust. Alex understood it in a more distant sense. Years of working alongside ULF members, learning the language, and making a home for himself had given him the same drive to protect. And he would help her carry the weight, whether she wanted his assistance or not.
"Aww, don't give up, sweetheart."
She half laughed, half groaned. "You're doing it on purpose now."
"Maybe," Alex relented with a grin she couldn't see but could hopefully hear in his tone. "Or maybe I just wanted to say it."
"Alex..."
The silence was heavy but not tense. Things were rarely tense between them these days. They'd gone to war together too many times to be rattled by little things like emotions. And perhaps that was why it was here, in a pitch black room with no way out, that he finally chose to be honest.
"Tell me to stop," Alex said.
"I have," she said.
The hesitation in her tone threw him off balance. He desperately wanted to see her face, to read her expressions. For a woman supposedly made of stone, he could generally read her mood from a mile away. But right now, all he had was darkness and a burst of idiocy to lead him.
"Not really. You said you were not and would never be my sweetheart. You asked me why I called you that. But you've never actually asked me to stop."
"It was heavily implied," she said in her wryest tone.
Alex could perfectly picture her expression as she said it. He grinned and opened his mouth to reply.
Then snapped it shut when Farah added, "At least at first."
"And now?"
The rustle of fabric against the wall made him think she'd shrugged. "I suppose I don't mind it as much."
"I knew it," Alex said in a smug tone. "I'm growing on you."
"You're insufferable."
Alex laughed. He cut off when a shuffling movement was followed by a weight landing on his shoulder. Farah's soft breathing was the only sound in the encompassing darkness.
Not a bad sound to die to, he supposed.
And now he was getting morbid. But if he only had as many hours as the cubed footage of air in the room left to live, he wanted to go out with a bang—if not in a literal sense, then in a personal one.
"I think you like it," he replied.
She scoffed. He tilted his head to rest his cheek on her forehead.
"I think you like me," he murmured.
She went still. Even her breathing went quiet before a slow exhale sounded in the darkness.
But she didn't move her head away.
It made him brave. Or stupid. Or maybe a little of both. He partly turned toward her, raising his hand to gently cup her neck while being careful of her head injury.
"Tell me to stop," he repeated in a whisper.
A soft breath brushed over his chin. He titled his head down—
The sudden blaring of an alarm sent them flying apart, hands reaching for weapons they no longer had. A brilliant flash of light streaked through the center of the room, and Alex lifted a hand and squeezed his eyes shut against it. He opened his eyes again just enough to make out Farah doing the same. They blinked, their eyes adjusting to a flood of daylight as the ceiling—or rather a hatch in the ceiling—split open.
They looked up to find themselves surrounded by soldiers, guns pointed at them. They raised their hands to show they were unarmed, but they needn't have bothered. The man closest to the front pointed his gun away from them, lifted his goggles, and stared at them in confusion.
"Farah? Alex? What the hell are you two doing here?"
"Getting into trouble as usual," Alex called back. "Good to see you, Gaz."
Alex turned back to Farah to find her already watching him with a strangely neutral expression. "Looks like we're gonna make it another day after all," he said.
"Your optimism was justified."
Their gazes held while Gaz called out orders to his soldiers to set up a rope to get them out. Alex leaned closer.
"Maybe we can finish our... conversation later?"
Farah looked down at her hands and pressed her lips together before responding, "Yes. Back home."
Alex bit back a grin, stood up, and held out a hand to help her up. She let him pull her up, stepping in close when he didn't let go of her hand. A soft thrill when up Alex's spine, and he leaned close to murmur in her ear.
"Can't wait."
The soft hint of blush in her tan skin stayed with him through the debrief with the 141 and all the way back to the ULF home base.
+1
The sun hung low on the horizon as Farah stepped out onto the roof of the ULF barracks. Heat radiated off the stone, and she pressed her hands into the half wall, letting her skin absorb the warmth. Her body was still buzzing from the previous day's events—the ambush, the injury, the captivity...
And the press of Alex's hand to her neck, his low words echoing in her ears.
A shiver ran down her spine.
It was dangerous to be so attached to someone, but it hadn't stopped her from wanting it. Only her assumption that Alex wasn't serious, that his pet names and jokes were a way of teasing her, had kept her from thinking too hard about it over their years together.
When he'd come to comfort her after Hadir's death, though, she couldn't dismiss his seriousness any longer. He'd helped her purge the pain and resentment of her brother's betrayal all while keeping her confidence.
And yet, the emotional moment hadn't changed their dynamic. So she'd pushed her feelings aside to focus on the promise she'd made to protect her people at all costs.
She reached up to touch the bandage on her temple covering seventeen stitches. Alex was sporting a cast for a fractured arm, but was otherwise unharmed.
Farah and Price had agreed it was suspicious that the Konni left them alive, but all she could think of was how grateful she was to have another chance.
"Farah? Are you up here?"
This chance, in fact.
They hadn't had a moment alone since the rescue, so she'd sent him a note to meet her here. And, of course, he'd come before she'd managed to wrestle her thoughts and feelings into any kind of order.
Then again, nothing was ordered about the way her heart fluttered and her mind fuzzed out whenever he was nearby.
"I'm here," she said as she turned and leaned against the wall.
His grin was as welcome as it was maddening. Her heart began to pound like a drum, but she did her best to keep her breathing slow and even. The new cast on his arm was a dull brown color that somehow didn't detract from his pale beauty, blue eyes sparkling with...
Well, she would've called it amusement a day ago. Now, she wondered if it wasn't something simpler—something like joy or happiness at seeing her. Her heart leapt at the thought, and she cleared her throat.
"Is this where we get to finish our conversation?" Alex asked as he came to a stop before her.
She noticed he wasn't keeping his usual distance, his body so close she could easily touch him if only she reached out.
So, she reached out.
When her hand landed in the middle of his chest, brushing over the soft cotton of his t-shirt, Alex's smile faded to gentle surprise. The smile returned a moment later, and he took a step closer, bending over her to press his hand flat against the top of the half wall behind her.
His face was inches from hers. Her breath shook on her next inhale.
"I don't want you to stop," she said.
Alex's gaze, which had dropped to her mouth, flicked up to look her in the eyes, a hint of confusion in his expression. "Hmm?"
"Don't stop standing at my side. Don't stop covering my back. Don't stop calling me those stupid pet names or holding me when I cry." Her voice broke, and she closed her eyes and looked away before steeling herself and meeting his gaze again. "Don't ever stop."
"Farah," Alex breathed. "I'll do all that and more."
He leaned forward and their lips met, the kiss as easy and natural as breathing. His lips were warm and gentle, but not in a way that made her feel fragile.
No, everything Alex did made her feel supported. Strong. Loved.
They broke for air, but they stayed close, his forehead resting on hers. He spoke then—of the way he loved her, the way he'd found a home with her—until she pressed a finger to his lips and smiled.
"We'll talk more later, habib qalbi," she murmured before kissing him again.
He pulled away enough to grin at her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep her from darting away. "Did you just call me sweetheart?"
"No," she said, an echoing smile growing in spite of her best efforts. "Now stop stalling and kiss me again."
"Your wish is my command."