All the things he’d ever done, things that were supposed to make the world a better place, a safer place, the people he’d killed, the targets he’d taken out, the men he’d trained and led into battle.

All the oaths he’d sworn, the allegiances he’d pledged, the God in whose name he’d fought.

All of it had turned to dust.

It had brought him nothing but loss and anguish and the death of everyone he’d ever loved.

He’d read something once. The tree that bears no fruit is fit for the fire. That was how he felt.

But there was a part of him that refused to give up. He did his best not to listen to it, to keep it buried down at the bottom of his mind where he couldn’t hear it, but it was there. And that was the part of him now that told him if things worked out for Sam, if she found some sort of peace in the world, that would be a fruit he’d be able to hold on to.

He’d packed a single bag and it was on the seat behind him. He grabbed it and got out. Sam came around the truck and hugged him tighter than he’d expected.

“You’re going to miss me,” he said.

“I’m not going to miss you.”

“Sure you are.”

He’d walked to the entrance of the terminal when she called out, “You come home now, you hear?”

He raised a hand but didn’t turn back.

On the flight he said a prayer for the first time in years.

“Keep her safe.”

When he landed at Dulles he realized he hadn’t been in the capital since Clarice’s death.

So many people were dead. Everyone he’d ever cared about. His family, the people he’d grown up with, the men he’d trained with, the men he’d gone to war with.

Outside the arrivals terminal he found a cab.

“Where you headed, buddy?”

It was late and he didn’t see the point in wasting any more time.

“You know Monroe’s Diner in Foggy Bottom?” he said.

When Lance lived in DC, he’d had a practice of always eating breakfast at the same diner. If Roth or anyone else wanted to meet him, that was where it happened. He called the habit his own personal Monroe Doctrine.

As the cab got onto the highway and sped up, Lance leaned back in the seat and looked out the window.

He had the card Roth had left and he dialed the number on it. It went to voicemail.

“Roth. I’m back. Call me when you get this. I’ll be at Monroe’s.”

When the cab arrived at Foggy Bottom, he got out and entered the diner.

“Hello, stranger,” the waitress said when he entered.