Right and Wrong
It was the insistent beep of his communicator that woke him up. The room was gray with the light of false dawn, and the only other sound was the occasional thud of marching feet in the street below.
Torn carefully slipped out of bed, mindful of the other figure still curled under the sheets, and made his way out of the room. He snatched his communicator from the pile of discarded clothes as he passed. Clad only in a pair of loose pants, his bare feet made no sound against the cold stone floor. Closing the door quietly behind him, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the thick dreadlocks out of his face as he pushed the call button.
"Torn here," he growled, voice sounding even more gravelly from sleep.
"Lieutenant! Your presence is required immediately by the Barron!" a loud voice crackled from the communicator. Torn stifled a sigh, mentally cursing over the sudden loss of his day off. Still, if the Barron had ordered it, he had little choice in the matter.
"I'll be there in twenty," he snapped, closing the communicator before the other could protest.
Moving with purpose now, he quickly showered and dressed, crimson uniform bright in the morning light. He paused once more by the bed, staring pensively down at the head of brown hair just peeking out from under the covers. He leaned down, carefully pressing a kiss to the woman's temple, not really surprised when sleepy brown eyes opened.
"...mmph…Torn? What's up?" she mumbled, burrowing a little deeper into the pillows.
"I've been called in," he replied shortly, straightening up. He turned and strode to the door. "The Barron probably just found another of those resistance groups. It shouldn't take long to flush them out. I'll be back later." He didn't bother looking back, not wanting to see the quiet disapproval he knew he'd see.
He paused, hand on the door knob.
"You don't have to do this." Her voice was quiet, but firm.
"Yes I do. It may not be perfect, but the Barron is trying to save this city." His hand tightened, knuckles turning white as he still refused to look back. If he did, he might start doubting everything he'd believed up 'till now, and that wasn't something he could afford.
"…I love you," she murmured, and now he did turn, face softening slightly.
"I love you too," he said, taking one last look at her sitting in the bed, covers clasped to her chest as the morning sun streamed through the cracks in the blinds. Then he turned, and walked out the door.
After his footsteps had faded, the woman moved. Slipping out of the bed, she strode over to the small desk in the corner, on which another communicator lay. She picked it up, staring for a long moment, before quickly dialing. The communicator crackled.
"What is it?"
"Shadow? We've been found. The Barron's on the move."
Greetings all, Dragon-sama here. Everytime I look back on this piece, I think I like it as itself just a bit more. Hm... It was supposed to be part of a background piece to a major Jak&Dax fic I have in the planning stages, but I may just write this one first. Anyway, the last night of peace for Torn and his (unnamed) wife. An attempt to explain why Torn is the way he is in the games. Let me know what you think!