He thought he had gotten used to vodka, that he couldn’t get drunk anymore. Now he knew that he had had one too many, but he knew what he was doing. Didn’t he? He just wanted to forget. To be less stressed. To make it hurt less.  One moment he was telling her about the Dark Army, he barely heard what she said. Then they were speaking about something else. Then —

His hands on her neck, their lips met, his cheeks still wet from tears. She walked away. For a moment he thought she was right. It wasn’t a good idea. But it wasn’t a bad idea either. What the hell did they have to lose? This was one thing he still could choose. Everything else it was about them. It had always been about them. And she was the person he could be intimate with, the only person—

Water. He remembered how he counted how much he had during the day, he had to stay dehydrated. That habit gone too, along with everything else.   ❝I am aware. ❞ he smiled a little, faintly, his hands folded around his his chest as he stepped further in the apartment. He wished he was more cheerful. He wished he could somehow make this be enough. He needed something more, something that Angela could never truly give him.  It was always a matter of time after all. It would end. If only he could end his work with the Dark Army. If only he could go back home and find Joanna with their son in her arms. If only he could believe things would be okay. That the future would bare a mere resemblance of what he thought it would be.

He regretted the moment he said it. This asshole could go over the footage, he could just find an excuse to make his son pay. Panic rushed through him, but he tried to breathe normally. What if she was part of it? No, she persisted too much. Which only meant she was as good as dead.  His eyes harden, but he can only glare so much after all the time he spent crying, screaming at an empty room ❝I have already told you. I am trying to protect my family. Everything was about them.❞ he felt his eyes burning once again. When she walked in the interrogation room, he hoped that she would tell him that Santiago was lying, that he would see Joanna very soon, that he would hold his son. ❝I have to protect what’s left of it.❞

It had been almost a month and they were still doing this. He expected that he would be bored of it by now, that somehow something would happen to make him feel better on his own. And yet, there he was.

Oh he wanted to believe that so badly. He wanted to believe that there was a glimpse of hope. That there could be a future. He huffed, running his hand to his face and stepped closer to face him.  ❝ Now I know you don’t believe in this. In me...I am just wondering. Ever since we met...was there any point that you have actually told me the truth? ❞