Chapter Text
Peter Sutherland was sitting in the plane taking him to San Francisco…to Rose Larkin.
He was gazing at the sky through the window, his sweaty, trembling hands nervously tapping on his thighs.
Rose Larkin.
It had been over a year since he had last seen her.
Two weeks ago, he had asked his boss, Deputy Director Aiden Mosley, for some time off to rest, to heal his leg and to find his balance. The reality was that Peter was tired of the life he had been living for the last months. He was tired of being alone. He loved his job, he truly loved it. Feeling useful and serving his country was what he loved. Yet, something was definitely missing in his life.
His leg was better now, even though he was still limping slightly, but the doctor told him that he could travel and that he didn’t need any physical rehab anymore. Time and rest was what he needed.
So, now that he was feeling better physically, he needed to take care of his mental health and all that mattered to him was Rose. She was the only person able to help him with this. No therapist could do the job, Rose was the one he needed. She had haunted his days and nights for months, there was not a day when he didn’t think of her. He had made a choice, he had asked her to stay away from him for her safety.
Today, the threat was gone, and he was determined to win back her heart. It would take as long as it took, it didn’t matter, Rose Larkin was the only person he needed in his life.
He took a deep breath and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
Rose Larkin.
In less than two hours, he would land in San Francisco and would go straight to Rose's place. He remembered the first time he had heard her voice on that damn phone in the White House basement, the first time he had seen her, fragile, terrified, the first time he had kissed her.
All those memories belonged to the past. Today, he absolutely wanted to find her. Everyone he had met in the past months had told him the same thing: to be a good agent, he needed to find balance, he needed to have in his life that person who would be waiting for him at home after a hard day or a long mission. And his balance was Rose.
When he landed in San Francisco, Peter hurried out of the airport and headed to the car rental, his travel bag on his shoulder. He rented a car and drove straight to Rose's apartment.
He had been there only once, after Camp David, after the funerals, after the debriefings and interrogations. Rose had needed to get away from Washington for a bit, so they had gone to California together for some time. It had also been a way for Rose to show him her city and her life.
The beauty of California unfolded before him as he drove toward her apartment. He was not accustomed to either this heat or these vacation-like landscapes.
When he arrived in front of Rose's building, he parked, got out of the car, and looked at the balcony on the second floor, Rose's balcony. He saw a pink parasol and small metal statues hanging from the balcony, which didn't resemble Rose's style at all. He frowned, his throat getting tighter and tighter. He walked up the few stairs to the doorbells but frowned again when he didn't see Rose's name on any of them. Rose had probably moved. A lot could change in a year.
What if she had another man in her life?
Maybe she had moved in with her boyfriend?
Peter could quickly find her new address using FBI programs, but maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go to her place directly. Peter had no desire to come face to face with the new man sharing the life of the woman he loved. So he changed his plan and decided to go to her workplace instead, at Adverse, hoping that she still worked there.
Twenty minutes later, Peter found himself in front of the glassed modern building that housed Adverse. He walked to the reception. His hands were sweaty, stress was rising, and his throat felt tight. He had no idea if Rose was still working there, or if she would even agree to see him and talk to him. He needed to try, though.
"Hi.”
“Good afternoon, Sir. May I help you?”
“Yes, I… I would like to speak with Rose Larkin, please."
"And you are?"
"Peter Sutherland."
"One moment, please."
In her office, Rose was busy reading her upcoming presentation for the umpteenth time. She had to admit she was stressed, feeling a knot in her stomach thinking that the company's financial future largely depended on this meeting and on her presentation the next day. Artoun was counting on her, and she was determined not to disappoint him. She simply had to hold on for one more day.
The phone of her office rang, she looked at the name displayed and answered.
"Yes, Ann?"
"Rose, there is a man for you at the reception. He said he’s Peter Sutherland."
When Rose heard his name, her heart raced, her breathing became difficult, and she nearly dropped the phone.
Peter…
Peter was there, at her workplace. It had been over a year since she had seen him.
"Rose? Are you still there?"
"Uh ... yes ...yes I’m here… Uh… Please send him up."
"Alright."
She put the phone down and took a deep breath, closing her eyes and running a hand over her face.
She hadn't seen Peter in a year, but she had thought about him every day. He had been haunting her life for months, and the only moment she could forget the pain was when she was at work, so she had been working tirelessly for months.
What was he doing here?
What could have brought him to San Francisco?
A new mission ? Was she in danger again ?
Her heart tightened even more, and every second that passed brought her closer to the moment when she would see him, right there in front of her, in her office. Her hands began to tremble when someone knocked on her door. She took another deep breath and stood up.
"Yes, come in."
Ann opened her door and then Rose saw him.
Peter Sutherland.
He was there, in front of her. She looked him up and down. He looked fit and much less tired and worn out than the last time she had seen him in New York.
For a moment, they looked into each other's eyes in silence. Neither of them dared to speak, or even move. After so much time apart, being in the same room felt strange. Strange but familiar, as if they both belonged in the same space.
Ann cleared her throat, bringing them back to reality.
"Uh... thanks Ann. You can leave us."
Ann looked at Rose and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Peter looked at Rose and made a step forward.
"Hi, Rose. It's good to see you."
The sound alone of his voice sent shivers down her whole body. She had missed his voice. She fought the urge of running and throwing herself in his arms. She looked back at him, and crossed her arms on her chest.
"Hi, Peter... What... What are you doing here?"
"I... I need to talk to you. I... I stopped by your place but didn't see your name... I guess you've moved..."
"Three months ago, yes."
"Yeah... so… I came here to see you."
His voice was trembling and Rose noticed.
“Am I in danger, Peter?”
“No… No this … this has nothing to do with my job.”
"Peter... It's been over a year... it's been a year since I heard from you... and now you show up at my work... to talk?"
"I really need to talk to you."
"Peter... It's too easy..."
"Please...Rose… I have... I have things to tell you. Things I should have told you a long time ago."
Rose looked at him, arms still crossed in front of her, as if she was trying to protect herself from him, from what he was going to say. Funnily enough, he was the one who always saved her, but she needed to protect her heart from him. He noticed she was nervous, on the defensive, tapping on her forearm.
"Rose... I know I owe you explanations, apologies."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked at her again, this time he too was nervous.
"If you don’t want to, I’ll understand and respect your decision. But... Can we meet somewhere when you're done with work? ... Please..."
Rose hadn’t looked away. He was sincere, almost pleading, begging her. His vulnerability was unbearable to her. She had never seen Peter in such a state of vulnerability.
She also saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. She so badly wanted to go to him and take him in her arms.
But she also had to resist and stay strong. She couldn't just believe him. He owed her explanations, lots of explanations, and apologies. She looked away and stared out of her office window before looking at him again.
"Where are you staying tonight?"
The question surprised Peter, as much as it actually surprised her too. The words had come out of her mouth without second thought.
"I... I don't know yet. I... I'll find a hotel nearby."
Rose raised her eyes and shook her head.
"You can stay at my place tonight."
She turned around and searched for her keys in her handbag when Peter took a step toward her.
"No... I... I didn't mean it like that... I..."
"The couch is very comfortable, don’t worry."
Her words hurt, but what else could he have expected. She turned to him and handed him the keys.
"Wait for me at my place, I'll be home in about two hours. The fridge is empty, I'll stop on the way to get us something to eat."
Peter looked at her.
"Rose..."
"Don't argue. Take the keys. I don’t think a bar or a restaurant is the right place to have a talk, right?"
Peter nodded and took the keys Rose was handing him. As he did, his fingers brushed hers. It was like an electric shock. Rose took her hand away quickly, like it was burning, and turned to her office to write her address on a piece of paper, avoiding his gaze. Peter looked at her, aware of the effect he still had on her.
"Okay, but just for tonight... and... I'll take care of dinner."
"Fine. I'll see you at home then."
She handed the sticky note to Peter with her address. Peter took the piece of paper and nodded before walking to the door. Before leaving, he turned around and looked at Rose.
"Thank you."
A slight smile appeared on her face.
"See you later."
Peter left the office, leaving Rose to her tasks. She knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate. It was way too hard for her.
What could he have so important to tell her?
What should she expect?
She sat down in front of the screen again and tried to get back to work.
*****
When Peter arrived at Rose's place, he went inside and set his bag on the small bench next to the front door. He put what he had bought for dinner on the kitchen counter.
He took a deep breath and looked around. Most of the furniture was the same as what she had in her previous apartment. He had always liked her taste in decoration: a mix of modern with some touches of vintage, simple with certain elements that were out of the ordinary.
That was Rose all over: simple, basic, but with a little touch of craziness. That was what he loved about her.
He moved through this new space, unfamiliar to him, taking in the decor, the colorful cushions on the gray sofa, the frame with abstract art above the raw wooden cabinet. Then, he stopped. Carefully, he picked up the origami rose placed on the dresser. It was the flower he had made when Rose had taught him origami. It was the first flower he had given her, and she had kept it. He turned it over in his hand and smiled.
She had kept the rose he had made for her.
He put it back and walked towards the hallway. He opened the first door and found himself in the bathroom. A large shower, a double sink, and Rose's beauty products everywhere on the various shelves. He smiled again. She was still as messy as when he had known her. But what made him smile even more was the fact that there was no male product in this bathroom. Only one toothbrush, only women's perfume, and no trace of a men's body wash. As selfish as it seemed, Peter couldn't help but feel happy. He was reassured that she, too, hadn't managed to move on, even though deep down it made him sad as well.
He then headed to the bedroom, and as he expected, the bed wasn't even made. He walked towards the bed and stopped abruptly again. There was a man's t-shirt on the bed.
But that t-shirt, Peter knew it very well. It was his. It was one of the t-shirts he had given her (or more she had stolen from him) when he left the first time. She still had it, she had kept it all those years, and it seemed she was still using it to sleep.
Peter felt his heart break into a thousand pieces.
How could he have abandoned her in such a way... He was even more determined to make up for it and to ensure that she would never feel that pain and loneliness again. He turned his head toward the wardrobe, which was lightly ajar. He walked over to the wardrobe and opened the door a little more. His gaze was drawn to a box at the bottom with a P on it. He frowned and crouched down to open it. His heart tightened even more. Photos. Of him and Rose. The necklace he had given her. An origami star that he had made for her. A note that he had left her one morning. Another t-shirt of his. She had kept everything that could remind her of his presence. Peter felt his throat tighten, his heart hurt even more. He closed the box and headed to the balcony. He needed some fresh air; he was suffocating in this apartment where, because of him, she must have spent entire nights crying. And just imagining her so lonely and sad without him made him sick. He opened the glass door and took a deep breath.
What had he done ?