I swore it wouldn't happen.

I swore that I would protect them.  Watch out for them. 

And yet, in the end, I failed.

I tore apart that which I vowed never to do.  Not by the action of signing my name on a transfer order, but instead by my inaction.  A quick glance to the treeline and he was gone.

And I have no one but myself to blame.

As I slowly make my way down the hall toward her room, I hear the words echoing with every footstep. 

You failed.  You failed.  You failed.

I pause at her door, dreading the words I'm about to speak, even as much as I crave her absolution, her acknowledgement that I did everything I could.

I stumble through the explanation, knowing what I saw and yet almost unable to articulate it.  But in her unfailing grace, she pardons me, saying she knows.  Someone already told her.  I don't know whom, but I am eternally grateful.  For all of my years as an agent, in the field and out, I still have yet to learn how to comfort someone in the wake of a loss.

And what a terrible loss it is. 

I am losing a friend, a son--or at least the closest approximation I will ever have, even though only a few years separate us in age.

But she...she is losing a piece of her soul.  God, how can she forgive me? I lost him. 

Her voice takes on the soothing steel of determination as she swears between her tears that we will find him.  That she <has> to find him.  But it's not only for the reasons I know. 

She is carrying his child. 

A miracle in itself, given her medical history, but one that she is not taking for granted.

She will fight with everything she has to bring him home.  To make sure her baby–their baby--has a father.  But she will need help.  As the pregnancy advances, her energy and resources will dwindle.

Standing in that room, as the weight of her announcement fully washes over me, I renew my vow.  I will protect them.  I will guard his world as if it were my own.  And this time, I will not fail.

I move closer, a physical barrier between her and the rest of the world so bent on harming her.  We are nearing the end game and the queen is still in play, but very much under duress.  I as her bishop will protect her in the king's stead.  Until he returns to play.  And when he does return, I will sink back into the shadows, a sentinel from afar. 

For he <will> return.  It's only a matter of time. 

My only prayer is he will still be the man I know.  The man she loves. 
 

END