"You got a body count of your own, John. It'll come back to haunt you." His words replayed in John's head the entire night after the assassination. The General was damn right--it was haunting him, right now. To disobey orders he'd followed for so long before realizing he was doing the wrong thing. Morally. The Murder--a word that weighed heavy now--was justified to John, but maybe not to everyone. He hadn't told you yet, his other half. It was going to be a secret he keeps from you, at least for a while.

"You're home early." You rolled over in bed, head on his chest now after you both had woken up, after he spent hours lying awake after coming home in the middle of the night. Your eyes found his, distantly gazing up at the ceiling. He was usually tired when he came home, and he never woke you, just slipped into bed like normal. "I know." He whispered, his hand finding the back of your head to finger through the strands of hair.

"You alright?" You asked with concern in your voice, adjusting so you were leaned on your elbows now, still tangled in the sheets with him. His eyes flicked to you now, looking at the features on your face he hadn't seen in person in months. Because of work, because of Shepherd.

"Yeah, baby," He mumbled, slightly stretching as he propped himself up as well. "C'mere," As lightweight, he pulled you into his lap and held you there. Playful chuckles left your lips, and silence came from his. You were utterly clueless of the past 24 hours. "Why are you being so weird?" You smiled and chuckled, but he found himself struggling to find a response.

"I love you."

"I miss you."

"I'm sorry, I've messed up."

"I assassinated the General."

None of them felt like the right way to approach this. If there was.

"I have to return to work soon." He finally whispered. A weight of guilt in his hoarse voice. He's done something he can't keep from you.