Dane

The memory was so real and present, he could smell her like she was there with him, see the texture of her skin the shine on her hair. They'd been at the secret apartment, sitting at the dining table. They'd finished eating, but neither of them had gotten up because they couldn't bear to be apart, to take their eyes off each other.

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Dear, God, he missed her with an ache that made him want to weep.

And that feeling got worse as he fell headlong into that moment that seemed so impossibly long ago. How could he have forgotten that? How could he have forgotten his promise?

And… how would he decide if he was still going to hold himself to it…?

…They were in the apartment and she stared up at him with love and concern in her eyes as he murmured in a dark voice, "The only way I'll ever be free—we'll ever be free—is if he's dead."

Lila visibly paled. Her mouth fell open, and for the first time since they'd met, he saw true fear in her eyes. Dane leaned back and let go of her hands. He'd misjudged this completely.

"Please," she whispered, swallowing as her voice broke. "Please promise me you'll never…Dane, it will only hurt you."

He flapped a hand and made a face, tried to brush it off. "I didn't mean I'd kill him, Lila, I just meant—"

"No. Don't," she said firmly. "I know exactly what you meant. Look at me, Dane."

He was still leaned right back in his chair. But she'd hunched forward over the table, heedless of the dirty plate in front of her. He forced himself to meet her eyes, bracing for the fear in them. But instead, he was surprised it see sadness.

Why was she sad?

"I'll tell you what I see when I think about your past, and your future," she said quietly, her voice cracking. "I see that, no matter what kind of monster your father is, you wouldn't be who you are without him. That if he hadn't been in your life, I would have met someone else when I arrived here. And I don't think I could have loved that man, because I would have been looking for you."

Dane blinked.

"When I think about the future, yeah, it scares me." She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. "But nothing scares me more than thinking that you might…that you might do something…that he might drive you to try something…like that."

"Lila, you don't need to fear me. I'd never hurt you," he insisted.

She shook her head and opened her eyes. "I don't think you'll hurt me. I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself in a way that you could never heal. Can't you see? If you crossed that bridge… instead of us being together—and even if we're fighting against him, we're still together, Dane—I'd end up without you. Killing him would kill something in you. I know it." She stared at him, that fear written all over her face, along with the tears making silver lines along her lashes. "Please, Dane. I couldn't lose you that way. Please, don't ever—don't even consider it!"

"But if it was the only way for us to be free—?"

"There would not be freedom in that," she spat, "trust me. You aren't the only one with a messed up father, and a horrible childhood. Promise me, Dane. Promise me you'll never try to remove him like that." She paused and his head spun. The lines on her forehead got deeper. "Dane, please."

He never wanted to see her looking like that again—as if she feared for him. As if he could let her down.

He got up from his seat and circled the table, reaching a hand for her and drawing her to stand up too. Then he wrapped her arms around his waist, and used his fingers to comb her hair back. Even though she came close to him willingly, she didn't speak, and her plea was written all over her face.

"I can promise you this," he said huskily. "I will never go looking for him. I'll never set out to kill him in cold blood." She sagged against him and dropped her head to his chest. But he tipped her chin up so she would see the absolute resolve in him. "But if he ever touches you… Lila, he will have to kill me then. If he hurts you, I won't stop hunting him until he's dead. Or I am…."

Dane sucked in and shook his head. He'd forgotten. How had he forgotten? And how did he—

"Dane, are you okay?" his father said, his voice oozing with false concern. The men around them all turned to look at him, too.

"I'm fine," Dane snapped, turning back to the screen.

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

His father tipped his head. "Okay, so what about the day your wife leaves? Divorces you? Goes States witness in your case?"

"This isn't about that. We're talking about this project, right now. I still want the gun on Harry Quinn, whether Lila's out of the picture or not."

"I told you, Dane, there is no circumstance in which she will not be out of the picture." His father's voice was suddenly dark and hard as steel.

The men around them tensed.

Dane nodded. "It was just a slip. I meant, this isn't about her. It's about me—and that fucker who tried to ruin my life."

"We were under the impression he'd been helping you… look for me."

"You mean that I was offering to help him find you."

"Yes."

"That was because I needed to keep him off my back, so he'd let me stay free. With the pressure you put on me through Tish, and Becky, if he didn't think I was working with him, he would have brought me in. He's like a damned wasp on honey."

"You want me to believe that when your wife was free you were already preparing for the day that she wouldn't be?" His father's tone was an odd mix of disbelief and admiration.

Dane snorted. "My entire life has been preparation for the day you took everything, Dad. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Last week it ended. I lost. I get it. That's why I'm here."

"And yet, you want me to give you a gun and a plan and the many and varied resources at my disposal."

The men around them chuckled or snorted, but Dane ignored them and let his eyes slide to the monitors and desks, and all the equipment. He nodded towards it.

"It's not like I'm talking about going Rogue, Dad. You said this was a set up, part of the project. Part of a team, right? So… give me the place that gets to do the job. I'll still be surrounded by your guys and your eyes. And if it's unsuccessful and someone gets nailed, it's me. You win, either way."

His father looked skeptical. "Just because I want you back doesn't mean I want you dead, Dane."

Dane raked a hand through his hair and tried not to let his frustration show. "That's not what I meant…"

They argued on, but Dane's head was spinning.

How had he come to be here? Arguing for the chance to kill a man?

How had he come to be so completely alone?

There was no one left. Lila was even gone.

As he tried to keep it together and convince his father to trust him, he was ignoring the intensity in Felix that he could sense without even seeing his face. The man was either excited because he thought Dane was doing what he'd suggested. Or he was watching for the betrayal.

Dane wasn't even sure he knew which way this was going to go.

He tensed, struggled to breathe.

He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't! He wasn't naïve—he'd been through this with his father before. He knew the sounds, the smell, and the taste of death. Even if it wasn't at your own hands, when you were a part of someone being erased from this earth, it didn't leave you.

If Dane ever pulled the trigger on another human being he did it knowing full well the weight he would carry. And he didn't want it. That was the pure truth.

But did he have any choice?

Then a little voice in the back of his head piped up and said maybe murder wasn't the answer. Maybe… Maybe there was another route to freedom. Maybe it was time to consider being the one who left.

With Lila possibly gone… Was she gone? Was hope lost.

He remembered the video she'd received—after she'd had that conversation with that Detective. Even if she'd been wavering, or just pissed off during that interview, the truth was, he knew. He knew how she'd feel about seeing him with that other woman, because he knew how he felt about having been with her.

If he'd had to watch Lila do that with another man…

He trembled.

Maybe he really would give up. Maybe the way to beat his father was to take him down in a ball of flames. He could thwart this project of his fathers by putting himself at the frontlines, then, instead of doing his father's dirty work, he could run into the Police lines. He could yell as much information to them as possible before someone took him down.

His father would shoot him himself, he was sure.

Maybe that was the answer. Dane wasn't sure.

All he did know for certain was that one of them was that they had crossed the bridge of no return.

One of them was going to have to die, because neither of them was going to give up.