Standard Disclaimers: I own nothing. I simply enjoy Jericho, could not believe there were not already fan fictions on this pairing, and felt that the point of view should be explored.

NOTE There are slight updates to this since I posted last night. In my eagerness to pose, I missed some pretty bad typos.

He was the type of man who believed in black and white. Right and wrong.

He was also the type of man who, after several years in the army and the knowledge of what it felt like to take a life, was not naive enough to believe in the inherent goodness of people any more.

Not that there weren't good people, but good people had to earn that title. They built their morals strong while clawing and scraping to hold on to their beliefs in the faces of their trials. They put themselves out there no matter the consequences.

Good people were hard and hard to find.

He considered himself privileged to be trusted with the responsibility of protecting those good people. Kids. Grandfathers. New mothers with squalling two-year olds. He'd joined the army directly for this purpose. A lifetime of deeply held desires to act and to make the world a better place were finally able to be expressed through his service.

It was an honor and a duty he took seriously. He would not have traded it for anything even though it took him far from home at times and far from the woman he loved.

Lisa.

His wife.

They'd met when he was Sergeant, still beginning and still full of cocky confidence. He'd been certain then that he could right the wrongs if he just tried and the almost none of the shine had been knocked out of him. She had been a college student, pretty and bright.

She was like playful sunshine. She made him laugh. He made her feel safe.

She'd been a natural balance for his more serious nature and even though it had taken some time and patience to win her, his persistence had paid off in the end.

During the day? He did not miss that balance. He had a command to run. The sun shined but it was never an inducement to play and there was no laughter to be had. Not here. Not now.

He had men to lead and he had two towns to both protect and guide.

Jericho and New Bern.

If he was ruthlessly honest with himself, and he usually was, he had to admit that he was slightly fonder of Jericho. The people had been battered and bruised but they'd still hung on to both their pride and their identities. He had to admire that.

New Bern, on the other hand, had sold their souls. If Jericho was the lost dog who still remembered a master's touch, New Bern was the street mongrel that would bite any hand, even one trying to feed.

When that hand was his or those of the men who counted on him? He started to take that a little personally.

The twin towns kept him up through the night at times with the amount of work and worry they caused him. So he had more than enough on his mind to keep him from dwelling on his family.

About how his wife had been in Sante Fe.

And how he hadn't heard from her since the bombs went off.

And how he'd missed his daughter's birthday. Again.

It was a pattern. One that any army brat knew and that every army father worth the title regretted. He'd promised her this year. There'd been so much time away but it was going to be different this time. He'd sworn to her.

There was no gray in that. It was black and white.

He'd promised.

He hadn't been there.

That made him a liar, even if by accident.

So, no. Most days he didn't think about Lisa or their daughter.

He had to keep moving, keep functioning. So he took their marriage and the memory of their love, both things that had always kept him strong, and made them his foundation.

They became the rock that he stood on as he set his back to the wall, his resolve in motion, and forced back order for his country with only a handful men and will.

As the months rolled on, refusing to dwell on his wife specifically though became habit.

That made it hard to tell exactly when it became the thought of blue eyes instead of brown that he took warmth from when that hollowed out feeling to his soul became too much to handle.

It made it even harder to identify when relying on someone for their insight and opinion became relying on them for their spirit and friendship.

Heather Lisinski had told him that she didn't know if she could keep defending him and for the first time in long time Edward Beck was drawn up short by the thought that some else thought his actions to be a poor representation of his character.

Heather Lisinski had accused him of being blind and for the first time in a long time Edward Beck reeled with pain as someone he'd come to trust without question betrayed him.

She'd seen that in his face. In response, those blue eyes of hers had begged him to still trust her, reached out to invoke all the things that their relationship was and asked him to understand even as she tried to provide some measure of comfort.

She still believed he was a good man.

The hell of it was, that he still believed she was a good woman. But he couldn't listen to her anymore without hearing the echo of her actions, no matter what her justification.

Major Beck was a man who believed that good people accepted the consequences of their actions. No matter who they were.

No matter how it hurt.

Heather Lisinski came back to sit with him while he waited to hear what his men would decide. She gave him the gift of her support and warmth without question or reproach, even after he'd thrown her in jail.

Right and wrong. Black and white. Things were or they weren't.

He wouldn't lie to himself.

Lisa was his wife. Her memory had kept him strong enough to keep moving. He was not willing to let that go.

But Heather was his help. She'd become the compass to his moving forward.

And he'd already let her make him smile again.