2:45 AM
The gravel crunched softly under the tires as the ambulance slowed to a stop in front of the small cottage. The porch light was still on, casting a warm yellow hue into the soft mist of the night. Tendrils of fog curled around the weathered fence posts that lined the property—a place she'd long forgotten.
"I'm sure this is the place. But hold on while I check" Nadia said to Robert who sat tight under the wheel. Nadia peered behind Jayson lay unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. The makeshift bandage around his abdomen was holding, but the dark stain had spread further in the last hour.
"Just a little longer," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or herself.
She stepped out quietly, the door of the ambulance clicking shut behind her. The night air was cool and damp against her skin, carrying the scent of pine and wet earth. Her hands trembled slightly as she walked up the old wooden steps and knocked. Each creak of the boards beneath her feet brought back memories she'd tried for years to bury.
The door opened moments later, spilling warm light into the darkness.
Mr. Stephen stood there, older than she remembered, silver now streaking through his once-solid black beard. Deep lines had formed around his eyes—eyes that squinted at first in confusion, then widened with recognition.
"Nadia?" His voice cracked with a mix of surprise and concern. "Child, is that you?"
She only nodded, the words caught somewhere in her throat. How do you begin a conversation four years overdue?
"Mirian!" he called, turning into the house. "Come quickly."
The sound of hurried footsteps preceded Mirian's appearance in the hallway, her hair in a loose bun, wearing an oversized shirt. She froze for a moment, unsure of what she was seeing—then her hand flew to her mouth.
"Nadia?" Mirian's voice was barely above a whisper. "What—what's going on? Why are you—"
"I need help," Nadia finally managed, her voice hoarse from hours of silence. "It's... it's Jayson. He's hurt. Bad. I didn't know where else to go."
Mr. Stephen's eyes darkened with understanding. "Where is he?"
"In the ambulance. I borrowed it from—" She stopped herself. "That doesn't matter now."
Mr. Stephen didn't hesitate. He grabbed a coat from the hook by the door and stepped past her onto the porch. "Mirian, prepare the spare room. Get the emergency kit from the basement."
Mirian nodded, already moving with purpose. Before disappearing down the hall, she paused and looked back at Nadia, a thousand unspoken questions in her eyes.
They didn't waste time on those questions now.
Within minutes, they had Jayson inside. Mr. Stephen and Nadia carried him carefully through the narrow hallway, his body limp between them. They gently settled him into a bed in the spare room—a room Nadia remembered all too well from the weeks she'd spent there years ago.
After laying Jayson inside, Nadia returned outside. "Thank you for helping us", she offered to Robert.
"You're welcome. But remember we never met", his voice coarsed but yet calm.
Nadia nodded as he kicked on the engine and drove off.
Back inside, Mr. Stephen connected the portable monitors that Nadia had brought from the ambulance while Mirian returned with warm water and clean cloths. She wiped Jayson's face with gentle strokes, removing the dried blood from his temple.
"What happened to him?" Mr. Stephen asked, his voice low as he checked Jayson's vitals.
Nadia leaned against the wall, unable to look at the man who had once been like a father to her. "He was pushed into the road while investigating a case."
"By who?" Mr. Stephen asked.
"Senator Donovan" tears welled her eyes.
"Senator Donovan? The gubernatorial candidate?", Mirian asked surprised.
She nodded. "Jayson discovered a dirty on him and was trying to expose it."
Mirian's hands stilled on Jayson's forehead. "You two are working together now? After everything?"
The edge in her voice wasn't lost on Nadia. Mirian was Jayson's niece, the only family he had left. After Nadia had cut ties with Jayson, she'd severed her connection with Mirian too, despite the sisterly bond they'd once shared.
"It's no longer complicated" Nadia replied, the understatement of the decade.
"So you still remembered?," Mirian asked. 
"How could I forget my own words? At the moment.....", Nadia glanced at Jayson lying motionless and frail in bed, "I don't think I can live without him."
Mr. Stephen finished hooking up the last of the monitors and straightened, wincing slightly as his back protested. "His breathing is steady. He'll come around soon"
"Thank you," Nadia whispered. The relief made her knees weak.
"You're welcome, Child" Mr. Stephen said. "But we still have to make sure infection doesn't set in."
Mirian looked up from Jayson's bedside. "What about the people who did this? Will they track you here?"
The question hung heavy in the air. Nadia had asked herself the same thing during the entire three-hour drive.
But before that would happen, she would have gotten to them.
Mr. Stephen nodded, his expression grave. "Then we'll need to be vigilant. I'll set up the perimeter sensors."
"You still have those?" Nadia asked, surprised.
"Just because I left the work doesn't mean the work leaves you entirely," he said. "Some habits are hard to break."
Mirian stood, gathering the bowl of now-pinkish water. "I'll make some tea and something to eat. You look like you haven't had a proper meal in days."
It had been longer than that, but Nadia didn't correct her.
Mirian paused at the doorway. "Will... will you stay? After he's better?"
The question caught Nadia off guard. She looked at Jayson's pale face, then back to Mirian. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I don't know what happens next."
Mirian seemed to accept this. With a small nod, she left the room.
Mr. Stephen adjusted the blanket over Jayson, his movements precise and practiced. "There's a lot you're not telling us."
"Yes."
"And a lot you probably can't tell us."
"Yes."
He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "Nadia... whatever mess you're in, whatever you've done or think you've done—this is still your home. It always has been."
The words pierced something deep inside her, a wall she'd carefully constructed over the years.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely audible. "For leaving the way I did. For not explaining. For... everything."
Mr. Stephen crossed the room and placed a weathered hand on her shoulder. "The past is what it is. Right now, you both need rest and healing. The rest we can figure out tomorrow."
Nadia stood at the doorframe, her legs barely holding her up. The adrenaline that had carried her this far was rapidly fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
She wanted to say something more. Explain further. Apologize better. Cry.
But all she could do was breathe.
Mirian returned and touched her shoulder gently. "Come," she said. "You need to lie down."
And without another word, she led Nadia down the familiar hallway to the room where she'd always stay with Jayson anytime they came around—still painted in soft earth tones, a little dusty, but untouched. As if they had been waiting for their return all these years.
On the nightstand sat the same small wooden box they'd left behind. Inside would be the letters, the photograph, the small silver key—all the pieces of a life she'd tried to outrun.
"Get some rest," Mirian said, lingering at the doorway. "We'll keep watch over Jayson."
"Mirian," Nadia called as the other woman turned to leave. "Thank you. Both of you. I know I don't deserve—"
"Family doesn't keep score," Mirian interrupted softly. "That's something Jayson taught me, even if you two forgot it somewhere along the way."
The door closed with a gentle click, leaving Nadia alone with her thoughts.
She sank onto the bed, not bothering to remove her boots or the jacket still stained with Jayson's blood. Her limbs felt like lead, her mind a thunderstorm of memories and fears and half-formed plans.
She heard the wind rustle the trees outside, the night whispering secrets through the valley. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called out, its voice lonely in the darkness.
In the room down the hall, the man she'd once loved—then hated, then reluctantly partnered with again—fought for his life. Outside these walls, people who wanted them both dead were likely already searching.
And yet, for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to close her eyes.
Safe.
For now.
The memory of Jayson's words from earlier floated through her mind: "Sometimes, Nadi, the only way out is to go back to the beginning."
She hadn't understood then.
Maybe now she did. 
But her mind roamed with thoughts. The primaries are in a two day's time. She has to find a way to expose Donovan, before she misses the window. But what can she do alone? Nexus TV hasn't gotten back to her and she doesn't know who else to contact. But somehow in her thoughts, sleep drifted her away.