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John was staring through the window in one of the MI6's warehouses, where he was being 'held captive' for the time being - well, at least his supposed corpse was. It was... disconcerting, to acknowledge that he had successfully executed one last mission before his retirement, even more for the fact that this time there was no going back into the field. Back when he was thought to have been captured by his former employers, it was still feasible for him to be caught out on a mission later on, with some story about torture and blackmail or similar to explain his defection from Scorpia. However, after his supposed death at MI6's hands, it would become nigh impossible for him to return to the field - even the slightest suspicion of his continued survival would be enough to land his whole family in danger with Scorpias's 'Never forget, never forgive' motto.
The last month alone he was simultaneously filled with joy at finally being able to spend some time with Helen, and of course with Alex, who already had him wrapped around his finger - not that his brother was any different, even if Ian liked to pretend he only visited to give him updates and held Alex solely because it was convenient - and at the beginning also with a feeling of foreboding at the idea that he might spend several years before he could return to the field in any capacity, however, the latter started fading faster than he expected, and despite all expectations, he truly wished to simply live family life without bigger excitements, at least for the time being. And the feeling of freedom that came with finally being free of Julia's machinations, as well as the knowledge that he can stop keeping up a persona 24/7.
Therefore, when he volunteered to be part of the ruse to save George Adair's son it had very little to do with the adrenaline rush that he found himself missing slightly, and all with the fact that he wanted to help a fellow father, knowing perfectly well how he would have felt if something happened to Alex. And now it was truly over. He was free to return home and finally start making real headway with the plans he was making with Helen for the past year and that could only come to fruition now, that he was officially dead and - as long as they bought the ruse - safe from any retribution by his numerous enemies.
He was startled from his musing by the sound of steps coming from the entrance, with the distinctive sound of someone limping and dragging one of his legs. He turned around to greet Crawley.
''The air clear yet?'' he asked. After almost two weeks of isolation to make sure Scorpia's agent took the bait and left, he was itching to get back to his family.
''You're free to go,'' confirmed Crawley. ''Even Rothman left two days ago after she wrapped up the op. They're still spitting mad, but there is nothing they can do about it.''
John nodded. It was a relief to learn that there were no immediate repercussions in progress – it should allow his family to fly under the radar while going to safety. And while he worried a bit about Mrs Jones with the way she volunteered to be seen giving the assassination order, there was something in her voice when she told him there was nothing they can hold as leverage against her. It made him think that whatever happened was a fairly recent development, but he knew better than to ask her about details.
He stood up.
''I guess that's the last I'll be seeing of you for quite some time,'' he commented.
He gave Crawley another look. The two of them were never that close – back when John joined MI6, Crawley was already a well-established field agent who had no time to train newbies, but he still remembered the uproar when he was hurt on a mission and it became clear he would never recover enough to be sent out in the field again, at least not on anything more than a simple surveillance mission. For a while then no one quite knew what to do with him, but after a couple of months he simply returned and took up a desk job. Many were surprised at how at ease he seemed with his new position, even though it was the polar opposite of his old one. And that was also the reason John requested to speak with him after his Scorpia stint ended, to find out how Crawley managed to adjust to a much different lifestyle in a matter of months. And sure, some of it was probably helped by the fact that with his injury there was no way back for him, but the speed with which he adapted was extraordinary. And it was the conversation that, somehow, managed to put to rest his building anxiety about the future. ''I don't think I ever properly thanked you for everything, actually,'' he finally spoke.
''It was my pleasure,'' Crawley waved off the compliment. ''And it got Ian off my back with the way he came into my office twice a week, fretting about your future.''
John laughed. ''Well, I believe Helen is also to blame here; she was the one that worried the most and Ian mostly bothered you to get her off his back. I'm not saying he wasn't worried, but if he wasn't being pressured by her, you'd only have him in your office about once per month. He'd found other ways to cope, but this way he could also show Helen he was doing something.''
''This explanation sounds way more plausible than some of his excuses for why he was in my office… again,'' sighed Crawley.
John grinned. ''Yes, he was also surprisingly bad at those.'' He threw one last look at the room that was his home for the past two weeks.
''Time to start enjoying my retirement,'' he said. There was a smile in his voice that stayed there for the remainder of the drive in one of MI6's less signature cars, and finally also showed on his face when he reunited with Helen and John and had Alex in his arms.
At that moment, he could see the direction his life was going in, he could picture a quaint house in Provence, with Alex running around with his siblings, while he was watching them with Helen and Ian from the terrace.
He never imagined the future would die a fiery death in less than a fortnight.