He hates when Jake is like this because it's Cougar's fault. And because it's Cougar's fault, his guilt is swarming again, layering in with what he's already feeling and making him hate that he's the one who's made Jake feel like this. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling when Jake quiets. Eventually, Cougar keeps rolling until he can slide a palm over the spot between Jake's shoulderblades, just resting there as he thinks of the words he ought to give.

He's so bad with words. He's bad with speaking. It's why he's been needing Jake, because Cougar's language is silence. The thing is, Jake deserves a normal life. Cougar's a murderer in the name of the army, but it weighs on his soul and he doesn't know that he can ever repent enough.

Maybe this is where he's supposed to start. Maybe this is part of his penance. Making sure someone he loves doesn't feel like this. "Sorry," is his hoarse, sincere apology. "You deserve silver lining. Happiness." He contracts his fingers before he removes them from Jake's warm skin and rolls back to his side again. "Didn't know you wanted me in those plans. Was going to leave you to your family," he confesses, "once you got home. Go with Clay and Aisha." Find and kill Max for the children,w without putting Pooch or Jensen in another port of LA situation that could get them shot.

He still sees Pooch going down, the bullet wounds bleeding. He still sees the explosion that took Roque.

Jensen can't hurt like that. Can't die.

Then Cougar really would go to hell forever and ever, and he wouldn't even have to die to do it.