He'd never done this with anyone else—this raw, unfiltered sharing of thoughts. But something about Riley made him want to be honest about the doubts that kept him awake. Maybe it was the separation. They were friends, true, but there was a shield of distance that made him feel secure in sharing his thoughts.
Riley: Ramble away.
Two words, but they felt like permission to be human instead of the unyielding force everyone, including himself, expected him to be.
Talon: Do you ever wonder if we're all just making it up as we go along?
Riley: Life, you mean?
Talon: Yeah. Everything. Morality, purpose, meaning. What if there's no grand plan?
It was the question that haunted him after some missions. The line between right and wrong felt blurred more than it should. When he had missions like that, he wondered if the choices he’d made actually mattered in the grand scheme of things, or if evilwas going to win no matter what he did to prevent it.
Riley: Then we make our own meaning by doing what is right and just.
Fuck. Just like that, she cut through all his philosophical spiraling with something so simple and profound it made his chest tight. She had this way of seeing clearly through the chaos, of finding hope where he only saw questions.
Talon: How very philosophical of you.
Riley: I have a good teacher.
Talon smiled in the darkness. She thought he was teaching her something when the truth was she'd become his touchstone. She’d unknowingly been guiding him back from the darkest places his job took him.
January
Talon was reviewing mission reports when his phone buzzed. He'd been thinking about Riley more than usual today, wondering how she was handling the increasing independence she'd been working toward.
Riley: Went to the grocery store alone today.
His heart actually stuttered. Grocery store. Alone. A couple months ago, she could barely leave her room, and now …Christ, she’s incredible.
Talon: Big step. How was it?
He wanted to know everything—how long she'd been able to stay, whether she'd had a panic attack, if she'd felt safe. But he also knew Riley well enough by now to let her share at her own pace.
Riley: Overwhelming but good. Bought way too much ice cream.
She was okay. More than okay—she was finding humor in her experience. The overwhelming part didn't surprise him; the “good” part made him want to punch the air in victory.
Talon: What flavor?
Riley: All of them. Don't judge me.
Judge her? He wanted to buy her an entire ice cream truck.The image of Riley standing in the frozen food aisle, methodically selecting every flavor available, made him grin like an idiot.
Talon: No judgment. Ice cream is an essential food group.
Riley: Exactly! You get me.
Those last three words hit him harder than they should have. She felt understood by him, seen by him. When was the last time someone had said thatto him? When was the last time someone had looked past the tactical precision and the carefully controlled exterior to see the man underneath? Better question … when had he actually let someone get close enough to look past the front? Shit … She was the first. And he was unusually okay with that.
"You're grinningat your phone again," Jug observed from across the briefing room. "Must be important intel."
Talon looked up, realizing he'd been staring at Riley's latest message for a solid three minutes. "Shut up."
Hammer laughed and followed Wolf and Stryker out the door. They were locked in the building due to weather, but the guys were heading for food.
"Seriously, Skipper, you've been different lately. More …" Jug paused, searching for the word. "Human."
