"If only," she said with an attempt at a smile, which came out rueful at best.
"I..." she said helplessly, running the scenario through her brain. Juliet tried to take a step back from it, to separate her emotions now from what they would have been then. Was he right? Would she have left him, or was that just the worst case scenario from his viewpoint? "It wouldn't have been any worse than what actually happened," she pointed out, her shoulders slumping. "Maybe a smart wife would have figured it out without having to be told. I was CIA, for Christsake. You'd think I would have picked up on it before some strangers!"
And that, too, was frustrating; that she had somehow missed what someone else had seen clearly enough to snatch him off the street, even though she had been with him for years. Perhaps love had blinded her, but Juliet didn't want to depend on an excuse like that. She swallowed thickly. "Of course I am. I can't get you out of here. I don't know that I could even keep you here. I have absolutely no authority where you're concerned, and not enough resources to try to skirt that, even if I was brave enough to try."
She didn't resist his touch, instead bringing her hand up to cup his face. "What if they take you away again?" Juliet asked miserably. At least, if they did, she would have answers; but that would never ease the sort of pain she had felt the first time, and it might perhaps hurt worse to have the bandage ripped off in such a way. "Transfers are too easy and common..." She wanted nothing more than to promise that they could stay together forever this time, but she couldn't. Neither of them could.