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The euphoria that comes from everything finally falling into place isn't sustainable. Nothing ever is, and they both know that. Which is probably where the tension comes from. Because anticipation of the fallout is almost worse than the fallout itself.
Hannah knows she's the one who's going to break. Her therapist is on vacation, of course, and seeing someone else is pointless. There's no trust there, and too much history to even try to explain. So the tension builds, makes her jumpy and irritable and overly emotional and, God, she hates crying, but she's doing it a lot lately.
Amir pulls back and she honestly isn't sure if it's what she needs or just what she wants, if he's helping her or hindering. And Hannah falls asleep alone for the first time in six days more confused than she's ever been.
She wakes up in the middle of the night crying and shaking, her scars searing with the memory of the pain, and she reaches out for him out of instinct. But his side of the bed is cold and empty, and she cries all over again, clutching his pillow to her chest, cursing her scars and her trauma, wishing like hell they belonged to someone else. Just for once, Hannah wants to feel whole.
When the tears stop, there's light filtering through the curtains, grey and dreary. Appropriate, she thinks. A shower and a cup of tea (his addition) later and she feels almost human again. But the fading numbness means crushing pain. Hannah picks up her phone and calls him, knowing he'll answer. But she's still not prepared when he does.
"I'm sorry," is all she manages, her voice catching in her throat.
"You have nothing to apologize for. Can I come over?" The last part overlaps with her own voice asking the same thing. Despite the weight in her chest, she manages a soft laugh.
"I'll be here," she murmurs, and she hangs up to count the minutes until he's standing on her doorstep, with an armful of flowers and a paper bag full of breakfast pastries.
"Good morning," he greets, and if it weren't for the visible relief in his steady gaze, she'd wonder if he'd forgotten about everything else--the yelling and the crying and the pushing him away.
Before he even crosses the threshold, Hannah's in his arms, folding herself into his chest, breathing him in.
"Okay," he whispers, ushering her inside, closing the door. "I'm here. I'm here, habibi."
"God, I'm such a mess." The apology she wants to offer doesn't come, not yet. He'd shrug it off anyway, right now.
"I think we're both a little...messy," Amir says. "And I think maybe we should talk about that." He kisses her forehead and Hannah finally pulls back, straightening enough to look him in the eye.
"Yeah," she agrees, tired and teary but grateful because this man--her man--is standing in her apartment with a tear-stained shirt and breakfast and flowers, and he doesn't want to fight her. He wants to talk about it.
Her therapist had told her, once upon a time, when Hannah had been having a particularly rough time, convinced she'd always be alone, because no one could possibly want someone as broken as she felt, with all the baggage, that she didn't need to fix herself completely, she only needed to find someone willing and able to hold all the broken parts without cutting themselves. And this, today, is the very first time Hannah's had any idea what that could possibly look like. She thinks it looks a lot like the man in front of her.
"I pushed you away," she says, once he's coaxed her to the couch and deposited a pain au chocolat in her lap.
"You did."
"Because I got scared." Admitting fear feels a hell of a lot like weakness, and it's fucking terrifying. Scarier than showing him her scars, even.
"You're allowed to be scared, Hannah. You're allowed to ask for space, or a break, or whatever you need from me. This...it works a lot better if you don't keep me guessing." Amir lets out a breath, picking at his own pastry,methodically shredding it to crumbs on his napkin. "And I should've asked sooner. I will, next time."
"Can I...I think I need to tell you why." The pieces of her she's given him are the parts about Sonora. But there are more she doesn't talk about, and those pieces are wedged between them, pushing them further apart.
"Wait. Can I kiss you first?"
Of all the things Amir could've said, this isn't anywhere on the list of things Hannah's expecting.
"Why?" She's baffled, immediately aware of how exceptionally bad things have gotten if that's the first question she thinks to ask.
"Because I missed you," he says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. And maybe it is. So Hannah nods and lets him kiss her, the knot in her chest loosening at the simple gesture.
When he pulls away seconds later, the distance between them feels like too much. Thinking about what Amir's already said, she pushes aside her insecurities. "Will you hold me?"
It takes maneuvering the pastries to the coffee table (or, what's left of them anyway), but then Hannah's reclined against his chest, his arms securely around her middle,and she just feels safe.
"Before Sonora...I had an assignment in Peru. My first. I was supposed to find this guy, Gael Fernandez. Wealthy, successful, and running one of the largest drug operations in the country. I figured, easy target. And he was. Young and cocky and all I had to do was show up in a dress that was a little too low cut or a little too short and that was it. But the more information we got, the more information there was to get. Connections and meetings and names and money..." She pauses and Amir hums, nuzzling her neck in encouragement. "So I stayed. And kept digging. Things seem so...black and white before you're on the ground, you know? Until you're in it and it's real people, real lives."
"You fell for him." It should be a guess but it's not. He's sure, and of course he is because he's him. She doesn't know if she's relieved or terrified. Maybe a little of both. "What happened?"
"We set up a final op, put together a joint task force. Big guns, the whole deal. Career defining. That's what my handler said." Hannah laughs humorlessly. "He was right."
"He died? In the raid?"
"He had a gun to his niece's head. She was ten years old. Ten. And he was willing to sacrifice that for what? The drugs? The money?" Hannah shakes her head,dislodging the memory. "He still had no idea I was in on it. So I had one clear shot."
"Hannah..." His hold on her tightens,his lips pressing lightly to her jaw.
"The first time you killed someone, how did it feel?" The question spills from her lips, unbidden. Instantly, Hannah feels Amir tense.
"I was relieved. It felt like...finally, a little bit of justice," he admits finally.
"Yeah." Hannah swallows around the sudden lump in her throat, closing her eyes against the burn of tears "What do you do with that? What kind of person does that make me? That I was...relieved he was dead? This man I...I loved."
"That...makes you a good agent. You saved a life, Hannah. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. It's so easy to get lost in the mess. What we do has a lot of mess."
"Then how do you know you're on the right side?" It's the question she hasn't even asked her therapist. It's the one that scares the hell out of her. What if she's no better than them? What if she's exactly like Fernandez, or Urzua, or any one of the men who had held her down and cut into her?
"Because you killing him...wasn't about vengeance, or drugs, or money. It was about saving a life. It's always about saving a life." He quiets, his breath steady against her neck. "How many people have you killed? You don't have to answer but you know, don't you?"
"Yeah,I know," Hannah admits, covering his hands with her own. Her number is lower than his, probably.
"And how many lives have you saved?"
"I--I don't know." There are the ones she can count. Ones like Fernandez's niece. But when she thinks of the collateral, the bigger picture, Hannah has no idea.
"It's not as easy to calculate," Amir agrees. "So we forget. It's easier to count loss, but that can't be all we do."
Hannah mulls that over silently, studying his hands as they fit in her own. The hands that have taken her apart and put her back together. The same hands that have killed, just like hers. The ones she trusts with her life. With her heart.
"The bad guys, they don't ask these questions," Amir whispers against her shoulder. "It's when you stop thinking about it that you should be worried."
"I don't deserve this," Hannah says finally. "You."
"Funny, here I was thinking we were perfectly matched." Amir chuckles warmly. "Life doesn't work that way. I think you know that."
"It's going to happen again." She means pushing him away, fighting this.
"I know. For me too. You're not alone in this, Hannah. The burden isn't only yours."
"I'm not used to sharing." It feels ridiculous to admit. She's selfish with her grief, with her trauma.
"Letting go of things takes practice. Giving other people a little control does, too."
Hannah twists in his arms so she can look at him. She's more than slightly in awe of him. "Exactly how much time did you spend with the therapist?" she teases, kissing his cheek.
"A fair bit. We had a lot of days between missions for a while there," he chuckles. "But I might've spent most of last night on the phone with Jaz. For being so...prickly, she can be very insightful."
"Remind me to thank her," Hannah says, settling more comfortably, her hand resting over the middle of his chest, her head tucked against his shoulder. "I really am sorry. It was like watching a car crash. I could see it coming but I didn't know how to stop it."
"I know. Like I said, I should've stepped back sooner. We both have things to learn." His lips find her temple and linger there and Hannah soaks it up gladly.
"Thank you for the flowers. And the breakfast we didn't eat."
"We'll have to figure out something for lunch. Later." Amir yawns and Hannah figures he got about as much sleep as she did.
"Nap?" She suggests, smiling because his eyes are already closed. He simply hums and rubs his hand lazily up her back. With a quiet sigh, Hannah relaxes. "I love you." She knows it in her bones, and it's a secret she's ready to share. One they can build on.
Amir's eyes open and find hers, a smile curling on his lips. "I love you, too."
"Good." She steals another kiss before letting sleep claim her.
In her dreams, she's happy and whole and his and none of those things seem quite so unattainable anymore.