Smoke Without Fire || Amelia & Teddy

amelia-hurricane-shepherd:

It felt impossible to stop the images flooding her mind – the promise of single
motherhood; of becoming a widow like Teddy – and it was like she forgot the
other woman was present at all. Her heart felt as if it might shatter, finding it
difficult to breathe, let alone to form words. Reality faded into a haze. Robotic
and sickening.

“He doesn’t even know it’s a girl,” she commented, a pathetic half-smile tug-
ging at her lips. “I barely even got to tell him I’m pregnant. I kept putting it off.
I didn’t want to tell him before it was safe. He had too much– And then finally,
FINALLY  I got it out, and he– And I never heard from him again. I don’t even
know if he was happy about this.”

The words just fell without much thought attached to their implications. Her
goal wasn’t to make the blonde feel any worse. The guilt was already evident
in her tone, and as pissed as she was, Amelia couldn’t find it within herself to
be vindictive. She was too sad to be vengeful.

Another moment passed before she realized exactly what Teddy had said –
the promise she made. Eyes lifted toward her, a crease forming between her
brows as she shook her head. “You have a kid,” she replied as if it were the
most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t go to Iraq. You–” She swallowed,
running fingers back through her hair. “Breaking up another family– You have
a kid. And people need you here.”

Amelia’s words — they brought back a past that Teddy had fought long and hard
to keep buried. Those were the memories she only set free in the darkest hours
of the night, for she couldn’t afford to let herself remember in this job and place.
Here, she had a rank instead of a name — a soldier, before anything.

But right then, she had never felt so weak. All the unsought recollections of a life
she’d willfully forgotten tore down the walls to her heart like paper — in an instant,
Teddy was in Seattle again. And, reliving her darkest night, she remembered the
truest fear she’d ever had to endure: the knowledge that she was alone. She was
completely, utterly alone in raising a child who would never know her father —
but the worst of it was that she’d irrevocably missed the chance to tell Henry of
their miracle. 

How could she let Amelia live out the rest of her life under the weight of those
same unspoken words? Teddy had always believed in duty, but this was more 
than that. This was grace; this was kismet.

“I have to, Amelia,” Teddy said quietly. “He’s my friend, too. He’s done more for
me than you could ever imagine, and I have to pay that back. I can’t let him die
while I’m in debt.“