Chapter 2 - Judge #2
I stop. Look up at that window. Can't see her face, can't see anything but the vague outline of a person standing there, but I know it's her. For a second I think about waving. About signing something. About doing anything to acknowledge that I see her, that she's not alone.
But I just stand here. Let her see me. Let her know I'm still here.
The curtain falls back into place.
The shadow disappears.
I go back to the bike.
Hours later…
Four a.m. rolls around and Brick checks in again.
**brICK:** *Northern route clear. Heading back. You want relief?*
**JUDGE:** *Negative. I'm staying.*
**brICK:** *You've been there for five hours.*
**JUDGE:** *I'm aware.*
**brICK:** *Phoenix is going to tell you to get some sleep.*
**JUDGE:** *Phoenix can try.*
There's a long pause.
**brICK:** *She must be something.*
I stare at the text. At the implication.
**JUDGE:** *She's a civilian. With a kid. Who got caught in our war. That's all.*
**brICK:** *Sure.*
**JUDGE:** *Fuck off.*
**brICK:** *Copy. Radio if you need anything.*
I shove the phone back in my pocket and drag a hand over my face.
She's not something. She's just—
She's just a woman who got off a bus at the wrong time and met the wrong man and now she's in danger because I protected her. Because I couldn't let that Viper put his hands on her, couldn't let him threaten a five-year-old kid who was looking up at her mother like she was the whole world.
That's all.
Except her kid signed to me without fear, asked if I was a superhero with this huge smile on her face like she'd just made a new friend. Except when I signed back, something in my chest went tight and warm like never before.
The sky is starting to lighten when I finally see the bedroom light come on again. Six a.m. Early, but not unreasonably so. Nora's probably trying to keep Grace on some kind of schedule. Trying to maintain normalcy.
Good luck with that.
I'm still sitting on the bike, watching the shadows move behind the curtains, when the front door opens.
Nora steps out onto the porch.
She's changed clothes. Jeans and a soft-looking sweater instead of the wrinkled shirt she was wearing last night. Her hair is down now, falling past her shoulders in dark waves. She looks tired. Looks like she didn't sleep any better than I did.
She sees me immediately. Stops. Then walks down the porch steps slowly, wrapping her arms around herself against the morning chill.
I get off the bike. She stops about ten feet away, keeping some distance.
Her eyes search my face like she's trying to figure out if I'm real or if she imagined the whole thing.
"You stayed," she says.
"Yeah."
"All night."
"Yeah."
She wraps her arms tighter around herself. "I just wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe, you know?"
"I know."
"I don’t blame you, okay?" Her voice cracks slightly. "You saved us. You didn't have to, but you did. And now you've been sitting out here all night in the cold because… Because of me."
"Not because of you. Because of what's right."
She looks at me like she doesn't quite believe that. Like she's used to men who don't do what's right.
Whatever she's running from, it left marks.
"Grace saw you," she says after a moment. "Through the window. She asked if you were still protecting us." She pauses. "She wanted to know if the nice man who talks with his hands is hungry."
"And?" I keep my voice level.
"And I'm making breakfast. Nothing fancy, just eggs, toast and whatever else I can find in this rental kitchen. But—" She takes a breath. "You've been out here all night. The least I can do is feed you. If you want. You don't have to. I just—"
She trails off, looking uncertain. Vulnerable in a way that makes me want to put myself between her and anything that could hurt her.
Which is a dangerous thought.
"Yeah," I hear myself say. "Yeah, I'm hungry."
"Okay. Good. That's… Okay."
She turns to walk back to the house, then stops and looks back at me. "Judge?"
"Yeah."
"Thank you. For staying. For protecting us." Her voice is soft. Sincere, “You didn’t need to do that, thank you!”
I want to tell her that I did it because that's who I am. Because I couldn't let that Viper put his hands on her. Because her kid looked at me and asked if I was nice and something in me just broke.
But I don't say any of that.
"You're welcome," is all I manage.
She smiles, and walks back inside, leaving the door open behind her.
An invitation.
I stand there for a second, looking at that open door, wondering what the hell I'm doing.
I should call Phoenix. Should tell him I'm compromised.
Should hand this off to Brick or Saint or literally anyone else who doesn't have this strange pull in their chest when they think about a five-year-old girl signing *Are you nice?
* with a smile that could light up the world.
But I don't.
I walk up the porch steps and through that open door.
The house is small, warm, and smells like coffee. Grace is sitting at the kitchen table in pajamas covered in cartoon stars, her curls wild around her face. When she sees me, her whole face lights up.
She signs immediately. “You came! Mama said you might not want to, but you came!”
I sign back without thinking. “Your mama invited me. It would be rude to say no.”
Grace giggles. This bright, delighted sound, and signs again. “Are you hungry? Mama's making eggs. I don't like eggs but Mama says I have to eat them anyway because they're good for me.”
“Your mama's right.”
“You sure you’re not a strong superhero?”
I glance at Nora, who's standing at the stove with her back to us, shoulders shaking slightly. She's laughing silently.
I sign back to Grace. “I'm not a superhero. Just a man who helps people.”
“That's what superheroes do.”
Hard to argue with that logic. Nora turns around, two plates in her hands, and sets them on the table. Her eyes are still red-rimmed, still tired.
"Sit," she says. "Please."
I sit.
And I know, somehow, that everything just changed.