The Congressional Subcommittee hearing was a damn circus. But Graves managed to weasel his way out of this mess, as always. He had to blame it all on Shepherd, but the man was already history anyway. Graves was not going to go down with him. He had too much to lose.

He walked out of the Congress building quickly, avoiding Shepherd’s eyes. He had nothing to say to him. He pushed through the crowd of reporters outside, and got into his car. He had a long drive ahead of him. A long drive back home.

He couldn’t wait to get out of this suit, to take off the damn tie. Speeding down the open roads, he left the city behind, the landscape changing from skyscrapers to suburban houses, to fields. Finally, after a few hours of driving, he arrived at his ranch. His sanctuary. His weakness - he knew that. This ranch, and everything within it, especially you, were his weak points. He lied today in Congress to be able to come back here. Back to you.

As he walked from the driveway, his horses trotted along the wooden fence, greeting him with happy huffs and neighs. Stairs creaked underneath his shoes as he walked up to the porch, an American flag fluttering in the light, evening breeze.

He walked inside, and was greeted by the smell of cooked dinner, and freshly baked pie. He headed to the kitchen, and leaned against the doorframe with a smile, as he saw you in an apron, standing by the stove. He cleared his throat to get your attention.

That was his favourite part of the day, when you would greet him as he came back home. It was something that kept him going, something that motivated him to always come back, even from the most dangerous and demanding missions.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek, greeting him home.

“So… everything worked out alright today?” you asked, cupping his clean-shaven face with your hand.

“Yeah, of course it did. I told you not to worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart.” Graves replied. It was only now that relief truly washed over him.