In the Quiet of the Night

John sighed heavily as he turned the key in the front door.

The world was dark and cruel sometimes.

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, before pulling off a tie he had loosened hours ago. He shuffled a few steps and slumped down heavily into his worn out armchair with his hand over his eyes, without bothering to switch on the light.

Try as he might, he couldn’t get the case out of his mind.

The case that had called him away from his 10-year high school reunion before he had even gotten there.

He had been called to a domestic disturbance, where a 13-year old boy had been beaten to within an inch of his life by his parents after they caught him trying to molest his 7-year old sister. But the more questions John had asked, the more he had realised that he had opened a can of worms. The boy was already known to Social Services for his withdrawn behaviour and collection of bruises at school a number of years ago, but he had somehow slipped through the net and no-one had followed up on him since.

That was the unfortunate reality of an underfunded and understaffed service.

And when John had gently delved into why the boy had attempted to molest his sister, it turned out that the kid didn’t even know what sexual intercourse was or what it involved.

Which meant that his sexual assault on his sister was learned behaviour.

He was a victim as well as the perpetrator.

The world was dark and cruel sometimes.

There were days that John questioned why he hadn’t left the Special Victims Division yet and there were days that he was reminded of why detectives like him were necessary.

And today was one of those days he felt both.

Maybe he should have stayed in the Army.

“Uncle?” A sleepy voice greeted from the staircase behind him. “You’re home…”

John quickly turned his head to find his adopted niece descending the stairs whilst cutely rubbing her eyes.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Hannah?” He asked as he allowed the little 6-year old clamber into his lap and snuggle her head into his neck.

“Missed you.” She mumbled before grumpily pushing his chin away a little, “Uncle didn’t shave again.”

“Sorry, kiddo…” He replied as he sheepishly ran his own hand over his stubble. Hannah didn’t reply as her breathing evened out again, falling asleep almost immediately. She never failed to bring a soft smile to his face and he gently combed out the child’s bedhead, feeling some of the worst of the day ebbing away.

It was moments like this that reminded him exactly why pushed through every shift.

A quiet knock at his door startled him.

Frowning, he questioned who on earth in their right mind would knock on someone’s door at nearly 1 in the morning but another part of him wondered if he was being summoned back to the precinct.

At least Jenny, the babysitter, had agreed to stay overnight in the spare bedroom.

With a grunt he rose from his seat, adjusting Hannah in his arms as he went to open the door.

But not before he had checked that the standard issue Glock 22 was still holstered at his hip, just in case.

He opened the door.

And blinked.

Of all the people to turn up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, it had to be his ex.

Helen looked as beautiful as ever, her dark locks swept over to one side exposing the pale skin of a slim neck that he once loved to kiss, her deep dark expressive eyes looking up at him with an equal look of surprise.

John swallowed.

“Helen?”

“Uh, hi…” She replied, eyes falling and fixing on the child in his arms. “This was a mistake. I should go-”

She turned.

“W-Wait.” John said quickly before he could chicken out. “Please, come in.”

And soon, Helen found herself in the cosy home, standing at the counter of the open plan kitchen she still remembered fondly from her teenage years. John had gone to deposit the little girl back into her bed, giving her a few moments to look around and see if she could recognise what had changed.

Apparently not much at all, aside from a few new photographs on the fridge.

Beside the aged photo of John and his grandfather (affectionately known as “Pops”), was a photo of the younger man in military gear standing beside a few others Helen didn’t recognise and another of John with the same little girl on his shoulders.

But there was no photo of the woman who could be the mother of the child.

“Hey, uh, can I get you something to drink?”

Helen looked up at the question as John returned from upstairs.

“Nothing with caffeine, please.”

The Detective opened the cupboard and absently worried his bottom lip for a moment, a habit he clearly still carried.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Sure.”

The domestic sounds of the kettle bubbling, tinkering of teaspoons on mugs and pouring of milk filled the kitchen for a moment.

The pair stood at the counter, mulling over their respective hot chocolates for a touch too long.

“So… how’d you find me?” John asked quietly, breaking the fragile silence.

“Your address… it was unchanged on the register.” Helen replied slowly but was quick to clarify. “At the reunion. So I thought I’d give it a try.”

Her ex tilted his head to one side, “So you knocked on the door at 1AM, not knowing whether I actually lived here anymore?”

The half smug and half sheepish look he received in return warmed him more than the hot chocolate in his hand.

It was that familiar cheeky twinkle in the eye of an impulsive and slightly naughty young lady he once knew that got to him.

“I just didn’t think you would ever move out of Pops’ old house.”

John let out a huff of amusement. “Am I that predictable?”

The glint in her eye disappeared. “You used to be.”

He winced at the comment and dropped his gaze down to the countertop.

And Helen mentally slapped herself on her forehead.

“S-Sorry, that came out harsher than I intended.” She tried.

“It’s okay, I deserved that.” He mumbled back.

“Did you? Because I’m not really sure what happened, to be honest.”

She was, as always, blunt but never unkind.

Whereas he always tried to be kind but was never direct.

They met in junior high: Helen was a late bloomer but top of the class and John was a classic jock, made popular by his athletic prowess. She piqued his interest when she made the cheer team and he piqued hers when he fumbled about whilst asking her out. They were an item throughout high school, even staying together when they were accepted to attend universities in different states. But a few years in, John dropped out and off the map, whereas Helen persevered and pursued her dream in investigative journalism; winning awards for her work before she had even graduated.

After not hearing from him for nearly 2 months, she assumed their relationship was over and left him a voicemail informing him of her assumption and the opportunity to call her back to prove her wrong.

He never did.

“I…” He sighed. “I couldn’t handle uni, so I joined the Army.”

Helen waited, knowing that silence could sometimes draw more information than a question.

“I served two tours, the last one in Somalia. Lost a good friend in Mogadishu and I ended up adopting his daughter, Hannah, because her mum had left them not long after she was born. So I left the Rangers after that and joined the Police. Working in the Special Victims Division now.”

John’s clipped summary hurt more than she thought it would.

The world was dark and cruel sometimes.

War wasn’t kind to anyone. Especially not to the soldiers sent to fight it.

That much she knew from her journalism work.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked softly. “If it was something you wanted, I wouldn’t have stopped you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“I just… I didn’t want you to wait for me.”

“I would’ve waited anyway.”

“I know, so that’s why-”

“That’s why?” Helen breathed, a little hurt and offended. “What would have been so wrong with me waiting for you?”

“Because I didn’t feel like I was good enough!” John snapped in a hard rush before deflating almost as quickly. “I never felt like I was good enough… I always wanted the best for you… And that… that wasn’t me.”

“That was for me to decide, John.”

The Detective and former Army Ranger fell silent at this, and ran a frustrated hand through his thick dark locks that looked like they had a hand through it several times already tonight. His hair was shorter than it was in high school, carrying a high fade he had probably picked up from the military but the hair on top had been allowed to grow out a little. His face bore the lines and bags of someone overworked, underpaid and over-stressed.

But his frame was thicker than it was when he was a cocky jock in high school; the weight he carried on his shoulders were heavier than it was then too.

And yet, he never looked stronger, braver or more handsome in Helen’s eyes.

“I’m still waiting, you know.” She said instead, her tone lighter and more forgiving.

John’s head snapped up from where it had bowed in shame and his warm brown eyes looked searchingly into her own.

“I… I’m not the same.” He blinked rapidly before closing his eyes. “I’ll never be the same. I have… actual baggage now.”

Helen studied him, wondering what he sees when he closes his eyes now compared to when they were together.

“And a kid. Jesus, I have a kid.” He continued.

“Wow, well done for realising that now, Sherlock.” Helen interjected playfully as she placed her mug on the counter, making him open his eyes at her surprisingly unbothered tone.

“What if I don’t want the same?” She asked instead.

“W-What?”

“What if I don’t want the same?” She patiently repeated as she stepped a little closer and used the excuse of brushing imaginary lint off of his crumpled shirt to not meet his gaze for a moment. “What if I want you, every version of you, scars and all?”

She looked up then, carefully, cautiously, unsure of what she would see.

And Helen found herself caught in an oddly vulnerable yet tender gaze that squeezed her heart.

“I’m not the same girl you fell in love with either, John.” She explained as she plucked his mug from his hands and also placed it on the counter. “But even as we grow as people, I don’t believe that we really, truly change much at all. Just different facets are more visible… Am I making any sense?”

She took another step closer at seeing his small nod.

He didn’t retreat.

She cupped his face and gently tugged him down until they could press their foreheads together.

The familiarity of the warmth, the scent and the act itself knocked the wind out of them both for a moment.

“I… I’m not going to ask for anything from you. I just want to be with you for a while… is that okay?” She whispered.

And when Helen felt the small nod this time, she let a warm smile grow on her face.

“But you really need to shave.” She added with a lighter tone as she rubbed the sandpaper on his chin.

John let out a snort.

“You’re the second woman to tell me that today.”

“Oh? Who was the first?” A note of jealousy crept in out of nowhere.

“Hannah.”

“Oh.” Helen thumped John on the chest lightly. “Ass. You just wanted to see a reaction.”

“Yup.” He replied with a smile of his own as he pulled her in for a long overdue hug, both melting into the embrace.

They were going to be okay.

Because the world really was dark and cruel sometimes but love and hope often carried the torch for lost souls along the way.

Love and hope that can be found in all sorts of places…

Like in a reunion in the quiet of the night; over a mug of hot chocolate.