Leave Me Behind

A monster has many faces, but Jenkins only ever shows me the one I admire most. I cherish our morning walks around the frozen lakes, late mornings in bed, and the lavish plane rides to London and Florence. He dotes on my every wish. If not for meeting Bradshaw, I would love him entirely. I’m sure of it.

I’d let myself be the vile killing machine I once was. But I hold onto hope that one day I might see Bradshaw again, perhaps in passing. He must look older now, closer to his midthirties. Even I look older. Though, he would hardly recognize me now.

Three years is such a long time.

I haven’t killed a person since that night we were captured. Jenkins lets me be by his side and watch his dirty work, but he never asks me to participate.

Eren would be happy if he could see me now, in the dresses I wear and the civilian clothes I lounge in rather than tactical gear and vests.

Yeah, they wouldn’t even recognize me. I muse.

“What are you smiling about, love?” Jenkins kisses the back of my neck as we roll in the sheets. I grin at the sun rising over the misty mountains.

It’s been two years since we last returned to Labrador. The earth still holds many memories and heartache, but time is a savage thing. It makes the cruelest of things hurt less.

“Oh, nothing,” I hum. Jenkins’s pale blond hair is tousled with sleep still and his dark eyes lift with his drowsy smile.

“Let’s go for a walk; some of the soldiers said a moose lingers around the lake this time of year.” He breathes over my collarbone, pressing a kiss to my skin as his hand smooths down my arm.

“Really? It seems too cold for them to stand out there,” I say as I slide out of bed and slip into leggings and boots. It’s the dead of winter but I love seeing the ice crystals that form throughout the night. It’s supposed to snow later, so we might as well go now.

Jenkins holds my hand in his, shoving them together into his coat pocket. We walk in silence as we usually do. I enjoy his silence. I often find myself wondering what his thoughts are. We only speak when we reach the frozen lake. The ice is beautiful and clear near the shore, revealing the visible rocks beneath. The trees are bare around the edge of the lake and the tall grasses have all been pushed down by the wind. The ice crystals that cling to the branches are beautiful. I smile at the complexity of nature.

“Can you hum me that song?” Jenkins asks, stealing a longing look at me. I smile and nod.

“Davy Jones” by Hans Zimmer. It’s his favorite one. Jenkins took a liking to music more after our first year reunited. I often find him in his war room staring out into the terrain with weary eyes. He lost his ambition for the black market trade long ago. Now he primarily leaves his lieutenants to run most things while we spend time together.

I think I’ve changed him in these short years. The darkness in his eyes has faded and has been replaced with longing for things I can’t give him.

Our sides are pressed together as I hum the song quietly. He closes his eyes and listens intently.

He’s quiet for so long I flinch when he finally speaks. “Do you remember how that man looked at you before we sent them away?” Jenkins asks out of nowhere. His breath plumes in the frigid air.

I raise my brows. He hasn’t spoken of Bradshaw since the night he let them go.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

I nod.

“He looked at you and I saw the weight of the universe in his eyes.” Jenkins looks down at me; our two black-clothed forms are the only contrast to the white snow. “You know… I saw you look at him the same way.”

The pain of an old wound throbs in my chest. I will never forget the way Bradshaw looked at me that night. How I felt when I heard his words and how he looked at me with shattered eyes when I didn’t say them back.

I close my eyes. I wonder if he was able to live a normal life—settle down and have a family like he wanted. It’s been so long.

“Why are you bringing this up?” I ask softly.

Jenkins brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You’ve never looked at me the way you look at him. Not once.”

The part of me that loves Jenkins aches. “Really?”

He’s right.

He nods and breathes slowly, smiling mildly at the view. A crunch in the snow behind us makes me look over my shoulder.

I don’t know what I was hoping for. Maybe I thought it might be Bradshaw, having seen right through my lies that night. My heart sinks when it’s just the two soldiers charged with trailing us this morning.

“It’s okay—I don’t need your love in return. Your presence alone is enough for me.”

Sometimes, I wonder if he desperately wants to hear me say it. My eyes lift to his. “Is it enough?” I rest my hand on his cheek.

He closes his eyes and strands of his soft hair tickle the back of my hand.

“My love is enough for the both of us. As long as you know you are my world, it is enough.”

We hold hands during the walk back and don’t speak of Bradshaw or that night again.