One week later...

Part XIX: All there is

“I’m only gonna ask you one more time,” Nick heard the voice through the haze of pain the last blow had caused. “What are you doing here?”

Told you this was a stupid idea, another voice was mocking him, and it took him a moment to realize this one was inside his head.

“I told you,” he tried to say, croaking, having trouble to breathe. Some of his ribs had to be broken. “I’m just –“

“Out for a walk,” he got cut off. “Sure.” The guy let out a guffaw and darted his companion a meaningful look. “You know what we do with guys who are out for a walk where they shouldn’t be?”

I have a vague idea, Nick thought when he saw the knife flashing in the guy’s hand. And more than ever before in his life, he wished he could turn back time. Just a few hours. Or thinking about it again – maybe an entire day.

He had eavesdropped on Nina’s phone call the night before. Not on purpose, or at least not initially, but what he had heard had been enough to make him suspicious.

She hadn’t noticed him walking in and continued her conversation. And although he had only heard the brief remarks on her part it had been enough to keep him from making himself noticed. Something about a change of plans she didn’t like, money, and a location not far from where she was at the moment. Yes, she would pick it up, no problem. And he had wondered what ‘it’ was. When she had asked about backup, he had carefully moved backwards and managed to get out of the room again before she had finished the call.

Backup? What the hell does she need backup for? It didn’t make sense unless… Unless she’s back in business again, the thought had flashed his mind. She had told him that she was working as an interpreter and just like him handling most of her work from her computer at home. But interpreters usually didn’t need backup.

His first instinct had been to confront her, but then he hadn’t - thinking, knowing she would lie to him anyway. Instead he had waited until the next day, their departure day, and pretended to leave a few hours before her in the afternoon. Then he had rented a car and waited, and when she had left he had followed her.

Flashbacks to Tunisia but this time it had been easier. More cars in the city and on the highways, and about an hour later he had watched her getting together with three grim-looking guys in front of a motorway restaurant. One of them had handed a briefcase to her and Nina had taken a moment to inspect the content before all four of them had continued their little road trip. They had reached their destination when it had been just about to get dark - somewhere in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of a glade, in a forest or national park.

Nick had been careful not to be discovered, leaving the car in a dirt road and cautiously sneaking up on the little group, and when they had simply seemed to wait so had he.

A while later another car had arrived, three more men showed up, one of them carrying a briefcase as well, and he and a second man had started walking towards the middle of the glade where they had soon been met by Nina and one of her chaperons. Hidden in a safe distance, Nick hadn’t been able to hear what was being said when the four of them met, so he had tried to move around the private party and approach them from a different direction where the tree line was closer and denser. But he hadn’t even made it half the way. Just when he had been out of sight and earshot, a sudden pain had seared him from top to bottom and then everything had gone black.

He had been out for a few moments, how long exactly he didn’t know. But coming to again he had understood that he had been knocked out, and opening his eyes he had also realized who had whacked him over the head. It was the rest of Nina’s team, the two guys who had been waiting by the car when the second party had arrived. After that Nick hadn’t paid attention to them anymore. Obviously a mistake. But it had been too late for regrets.

“Good morning, there,” one of them had sneered, grabbing him firmly by the hair and pulling him up onto his knees. “Anything we can help you with?”

Feeling the second guy behind him Nick hadn’t even tried to offer any resistance, and the guy had quickly cut to the point and asked him why he was there and repeatedly who he was with. Nick had considered telling the truth but something had warned him that it might not be a good idea. Not as long as he didn’t understand what was going on. Instead he had tried to explain that he was just out for a walk, just an innocent stroller. But he hadn’t even been able to finish the sentence before a fist had landed in his face and then in his stomach, sending him to the dirty ground from where he had been pulled up again after a few seconds.

That procedure had repeated itself a few times, the blows becoming more painful and more specific each time, until the guy in front of him had gotten his knife out which he was waving around now, on a level with Nick’s eyes.

“You know what we do with guys who are out for a walk where they shouldn’t be?”

And suddenly, Nick realized that they weren’t just out to beat him up. They would kill him. Right here, right now, without batting an eyelid. And that was enough to change his mind and tell them he was here with Nina.

But he didn’t get to say anything anymore.

“Later,” the second guy stepped in, stopping his knife-swinging companion, and Nick felt himself being pulled to his feet. “Make sure he keeps quiet and then let’s go.”

Another punch hit him, and the fist connecting with his cheek and jawbone brought him close to passing out again. And while his brain was still trying to decide whether to lose consciousness or not, he felt rough hands grabbing him by his arms and shoulders and dragging him away.

¤¤¤

Feeling herself relax a little, Nina watched the car taking off into the night. She was glad the deal had been plain sailing.

Her employer had contacted her the night before, telling her that there had been a change of plans and that she would have to meet the buyer one day earlier. Knowing that she had been in the area already he hadn’t seen a problem, and she hadn’t made it one, letting him assume though that she was there for another job. He knew that she wasn’t working for him exclusively and it was fine by him as long as she didn’t get confused about her priorities. They both knew she was smart enough not to.

However, she hadn’t been happy about her time schedule and her arrangements being upset. Besides the fact that it had given her almost no time to check out the location before the deal, she was forced to rely on a backup team she had never worked with before. Now she was glad everything had gone off without any complications. The Russians had the software and the money had been transferred to one of her employer’s accounts.

She waited until the rear lights had disappeared between the trees and turned around, signaling to Dimitri that they were leaving.

“Where are the others?” he murmured when they reached the car, but a second later they saw them coming through the woods, dragging something between them.

Someone, she corrected herself, recognizing the shape of a human body.

“Look what we found,” one of them exclaimed when they were just a few meters away. “Caught him sneaking around, spying on us.”

She frowned, quickly scanning their surroundings. If someone had been spying on them, it was rather unlikely that he was alone.

They stopped and let the man drop onto his knees, holding him up though with a firm grip around his shoulders.

“I bet he’s a cop,” the other guy spat, grabbing the halfway unconscious man by the chin and jerking his head up, offering a look into his face.

She did her best to hide the shock when she recognized him but didn’t manage completely.

“You know him?” Dimitri asked, standing to her right, just a few feet away. And it took her about two seconds to evaluate her options and maybe two more to make her decision.

There wasn’t really a choice to make though, considering what was at stake. No one cared about who she was sleeping with as long as it didn’t interfere with her work. But her employer would hardly show understanding when he found out that she was being followed and the assignments he gave her compromised by a former federal agent who was sneaking around behind her back and worst of all getting caught while doing so. It was a risk and a security breach he wouldn’t tolerate. Just like he wouldn’t tolerate that she had allowed for this to happen.

“Yes,” she confirmed coldly, staring down at Nick who seemed to come around now, his dulled, clouded eyes trying to find a focus.

That’s what happens when you get a private life, she thought, knowing what she had to do.

“He’s a fed,” she explained, and reached a hand out to Dimitri who understood and got his gun out.

She noticed one of the other guys smirking while both held Nick into position, each moving a bit away from him but still maintaining the grip around his shoulders. Nick himself still seemed to struggle with consciousness, but finally his eyes locked with hers and lit up with recognition, just when Dimitri placed his gun into the palm of her hand.

She closed her fingers around it and darted a quick glance at the shiny weapon before looking up again. Nick’s gaze was flickering back and forth between her hand and her face, fear and plain shock in his eyes when he grasped the scenario.

She saw his lips moving, and although no sound came over them she knew he had meant to say her name. And she was surprised how much the pained expression in his face affected her. How uncomfortable it made her to see him like this. There was blood dripping down from one of his eyebrows, his lip was split, and the skin under his left eye was already starting to change color. A bit more blood on his shirt, but that wasn’t even it. She had seen people looking much worse. Even people she had once cared about. No, it was the look in his eyes that… And she had to focus not to let it show.

You shouldn’t have followed me, then none of this would have been necessary, she thought, concentrating on her anger. It was much easier to handle.

She cocked the gun. No mistakes now. She had to be quick. Fifteen degrees left, fifteen degrees right. It was simple. One step, ninety degrees right.

¤¤¤

Nick blinked as a part of his brain was still trying to convince the other parts to shut down and lose consciousness. And seeing Nina pointing the gun at him made it seem a much nicer alternative to just close his eyes and pass out before she would...

His mind was working slowly and still busy processing the situation when two quick shots rang out and he suddenly hit the ground. And again it took a moment before he understood what had happened.

They’re dead, he realized, slowly lifting his head up and glancing at the two bodies lying to either side of him. She hadn’t shot him – she had shot them.

He looked up and saw she had turned around and was already aiming at the last man, who seemed just as perplexed and surprised as Nick himself. But for some reason she took the time to pull a second gun out of her pocket and point it at him as well.

“What -” the guy stammered and tried to back away but another series of quick shots from the second gun cut him off.

Nick watched him being hit in the chest twice, getting thrown back by the impact of the bullets, and falling to the ground. Strangely numb, he kept his eyes riveted on the motionless body a little longer before letting his gaze return to Nina.

She was staring at the dead guy as well, and her expression calm she seemed unmoved by the fact that she had just taken three lives. As if it was nothing or something she had done a hundred times before.

She has! Well, not a hundred times, but she had done this before. She had turned on people and she had killed. And although he had always been aware of it, never forgotten that side of her for longer than a few moments, it hit him absolutely unprepared now. Knowing what she was capable of and witnessing her doing it – there was a whole world between those two.

He watched her pulling a face, looking annoyed for a moment before moving again. Wiping one of the guns clean off her own fingerprints, she approached the guy she had killed last, kneeled down, and placed the weapon in his hand. Getting up to her feet again quickly, she was already busy cleaning the second gun as she came striding towards Nick without even looking at him.

He became aware again of the pain in his chest and side and rolled onto his back, groaning at the exertion. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. An angry and severely pissed off truck. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed her placing the second gun in the hand of one of his capturers before searching him and taking possession of his own gun in return. No wonder she has a different gun every time we meet, a silly thought flashed his mind while he watched her sliding it into her waistband before finally turning to him.

“Get up,” she said gruffly, sounding what…tired? Angry? Hell, he was angry too! Angry that he was so shocked about this, angry that it got to him like that. What the hell had he been thinking? That everything he knew about her past had just been exaggerations? That everything she had told him herself had been a bedtime story? He shook his head inwardly. I’m a… He didn’t even know what to call himself anymore.

She kneeled down beside him and reached out to support him when he tried to get up, but he pushed her away. He didn’t need her help. He didn’t want her to touch him. How could I ever let her touch me? How could I…

He groaned with pain when his ribcage reminded him not to move too quickly, and standing upright again he suddenly felt dizzy. He tumbled and would have fallen if Nina hadn’t caught him.

“How did you get here?” she asked and he told her, motioning with his head towards the dirt road where his rental car was parked. “Let’s go,” she ordered, and once more he tried to push her away, but the movement only caused new pain and he gave up, letting her drag him towards the car where she maneuvered him into the passenger seat.

Tilting his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes for a moment but all he saw were the dead faces he had stared into just a minute ago.

She got into the car as well and held out a hand, and he reached into his pockets, tossing the keys to her. A second later they were driving off into the night.

He glared at her. How could I be so stupid? To think that she had changed? That a part of her regretted what she had done? That she just couldn’t admit it because…

Bullshit! She hasn’t changed one bit. It was all wishful thinking. His wishful thinking. And the only reason why she had never said that she regretted anything was simply that she didn’t have any regrets! She hadn’t even lied. Just let him believe what he had been so eager to believe.

Fool!

They were out of the woods now and on an open road, and he kept glaring at her while she kept scowling straight ahead. The silence was loaded and she finally broke it, without taking her eyes off the road.

“Just say it,” she dared him coldly.

¤¤¤

She didn’t have to turn her head to know the look on his face. She had seen it before. Just not on him. And she couldn’t deny that it felt wrong. If she had ever cared how anyone looked at her, what they thought of her, really cared, not just because she had to in order to maintain her cover - he was the last one she wanted to despise her.

Let’s not get dramatic, she mocked herself. Just get it over with.

“Just say it,” she demanded and could feel Nick’s glare intensifying for a moment.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he replied then, his voice heavy with contempt but also disappointment. And for a second, she thought there was even sadness. But she wasn’t sure.

“Fine,” she retorted, knowing he would come around eventually. He was going to talk soon enough and probably more than she would like him to.

She thought of the cell phone in her pocket. She would have to make the call soon. And she better came up with a good explanation as to why her entire team was dead.

For local authorities it would look like they had shot each other. Three foreigners whose identification would most likely broach some follow-up questions but in the end none of those would be answered. The investigation would be closed without any result other than that all three men had died in a shootout. The specifics about what had happened and why would remain a matter of speculation. Only her employer wouldn’t leave it at that. He would want a reason, a motive, an explanation. She hadn’t decided yet what to tell him, only that it wouldn’t be the truth. Of course not the truth.

“It was never about Jack, was it?” Nick suddenly remarked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She frowned.

“You never came to the States to get rid off Jack,” he explained, seeming to have put the pieces together. “Neither to see me. It was a job.” There was still anger and contempt in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down a little and his disappointment seemed to weigh heavier now. “It was always a fucking job.”

For the first time since she had gotten into the car she darted a quick glance at him, and seeing the consternation in his face, the expression in his eyes as he stared through the front shield, for some reason it made her feel… Guilty. And turning back to the steering wheel, she swallowed.

“How many?” he asked after a while.

How many? How many what? Jobs?

How many people did you kill since…” he tried to clarify but couldn’t complete the sentence.

“Since when? Since I got pardoned? Or since I met you?” she sneered but he didn’t react. “I didn’t count,” she stated curtly and could feel he wanted to protest but then seemed to change his mind.

“You know, the sad thing is, I actually believe you.”

She felt a lump in her throat, and struggled with herself for a moment before finally just rolling her eyes.

You shouldn’t, she thought but remained silent. She knew exactly how many, and actually the number wasn’t that large. Most of the time everything went according to plan, without set ups, without shootouts. Most of the time nothing happened and tonight had been something entirely different anyway. But it didn’t matter. No point in trying to explain that to him.

“All this time,” Nick shook his head, “and I had no idea. It feels stupid to even mention that you’ve been lying to me, but…I really thought…I don’t know what I thought.” He sounded agonized. “Just the thought that we…and all the while you were out there, doing exactly what…” Again he couldn’t finish his sentence, and she had enough.

“Doing exactly what I’ve always done?” she snapped, trying to stay calm though. “What can I say – it’s what I do best.”

She could practically hear him clenching his teeth.

“Yeah, I’m sure the guys back there learned that lesson,” he sneered, and she couldn’t stop herself from retorting.

“They would still be alive if you hadn’t showed up.”

There was a deadly silence as he seemed to progress her words.

“Stop the car,” he suddenly demanded but she just smirked, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Stop the fucking car,” he yelled, and suddenly his hand was on the steering wheel, tearing at it with an iron grip, and before she could react the car had left the road and was plowing off into a field. She hit the brakes and the abrupt stop threw them both forward and then back again, pressing them into their seats.

She stared at him - angry, incredulous, catching her breath.

“What the hell are you doing?”

But slumped back into his seat, holding his side, his features contorted in pain, he didn’t reply. If he had an explanation, he didn’t seem willing to share it with her.

¤¤¤

Breathing hurt, and he was sure by now that at least one of his rips was broken but he was far from caring.

They would still be alive if you hadn’t showed up.

The words kept echoing in his mind, their meaning, their implications sinking in more and more, and his initial reaction fading further and further away.

Don’t dare blaming this on me, he had thought, anger flaming up inside him, but now he just felt like throwing up.

She was right. It sickened him to the core but she was right. Swallowing down the sour taste in his mouth, he realized she had shot them to save his life. It had been him or them. He couldn’t see why she hadn’t just told them that she knew him, that he wasn’t a fed, that he was no threat, but he knew her well enough to understand that there had to be a logical, a rational explanation to it. There always was.

God, he hated himself for doing this again. For understanding how her mind worked, for seeing things from her perspective, explaining them, justifying them.

Justifying? Hardly!

“I guess I should be flattered that you chose me over them. Is my life worth three others?”

He heard her sigh next to him but she didn’t say anything and they sat in silence for a long moment. He wasn’t even sure where he was in his thoughts, just that he was lost.

“I got back in before we met,” her voice suddenly reached through to him, calm but not as unmoved as usually. “Before Tunisia. And yes, when you showed up at the hotel, that day Jared and Travis stopped by, I was there for a job. Pretty much every time we meet I have something to take care of somewhere in the area, either before or afterwards. I killed four people since I got pardoned and watched a couple more being killed. I prefer for things to run smoothly, but sometimes they get ugly. And when that happens, there’s never really a choice.”

He turned his head to face her but she wasn’t looking at him, peering out into the darkness, her hands resting on the lower part of the steering wheel.

“Sure, just keep telling yourself that,” he stated bitterly. “But we both know you had at least one choice. After your pardon, you had…maybe not all the chances in the world, but…you were out and you could have stayed out.”

“The hell I could,” she replied just as bitter, meeting his eyes with that certain expression on her face again. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t just quit. It’s not like one of your part-time jobs. You don’t get out, you don’t turn your back on them. I know way too much to be able to just walk away.” She shrugged her shoulders, stating a simple fact. “They’d kill me.”

“If you know too much,” he started to object, “then why –“

“Because I’m no threat as long as I’m playing by the rules,” she cut him short, her voice low, a thin smile playing on her face. “I get my hands dirty but I get something in return.”

“Money.” It’s all about the fucking money.

“Sure,” she sneered mildly, causing him to think again.

“Protection,” he complemented, starting to understand. “From Jack?” He caught her casting her eyes down for a second before answering.

“From Jack, from former business partners, from people I know and people I don’t know, from those holding a grudge because I turned on them and those fearing I might turn again. Take your pick.”

“Can’t blame them,” he countered coldly, reminding himself not to be so fucking understanding.

“No,” she agreed unmoved, glancing around to check their surroundings. “But if I get out, I’m on my own. Now, how long do you think I could sit around in Africa, trying to find a job that just pays enough to have an alarm system installed? How long do you think it would take certain people to find me if I didn’t have the money and the connections to cover my tracks? And how long would it take before some people would get nervous that I might ask Uncle Sam to pay for my expenses in return for some information?”

He couldn’t deny that it sounded convincing. She seemed to have a point.

“As long as I’m in,” she shrugged, “it’s safe to say I have an interest to keep my side of the deal, and I’m useful. Once I’m out, I’m nothing but a risk.”

He stared at her, studying her expression for a moment before turning away and looking out the window. He shouldn’t even be listening. Of course she had her reasons, and from her point of view they all made sense. But it’s no excuse! Nothing could ever excuse what she had done. What she’s still doing for Christ’s sake. All the while they had…

He shook his head.

“So, what is it you’re saying? No one ever retires?”

“Not in my position.”

He nodded sarcastically. “I can see why you threw away your old life for this one.”

¤¤¤

She smirked slightly. She couldn’t. Sometimes she really couldn’t anymore.

Sure, you do. The only thing you can’t see is what your life would have been like if you hadn’t thrown it out.

She sighed and turned her head away, not comfortable with Nick watching her.

“I meant what I said,” she heard herself saying, “I’m simply doing what I’m best at.” And a part of her tried to stop her from talking, knowing what she was about to reveal. But another, much bigger part had already decided. It didn’t really matter anymore anyway, did it?

She met Nick’s incredulous, questioning eyes.

“After they deported me to Africa, I had a lot of time to think. And sometimes I wonder what I would have done, without Jack, without…if I really had been free to decide.” She saw the skepticism in his eyes but continued. “But the truth is, I can’t see myself making any other decision than the one I made. Not then and not all those years ago.”

She had let her gaze trail off while talking but looked up again now and saw him staring at her with a pained expression. As if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. And turning away from her, holding his breath, he looked as if he was going to throw up.

She could imagine what he was thinking.

To think that I ever thought anything else. That I ever touched you.

She sighed and turned her head as well. Dèja-vu.

“All those times you tried to convince me that this wasn’t going to work,” he said after a while, his voice low and weak, “you should just have told me this and I would have been gone in a second. But I guess it’s my own fault. You never said you regret, you never said you didn’t like things how they are. I just saw what I wanted to see.”

“I don’t like things how they are,” she objected although something told her not to. Maybe it was best to just leave things the way they were. At least it would be a clean cut. They could both walk away.

But for some reason, she didn’t want him to think the worst of her. Not more than he should.

“You just said –“ he started but she cut him off.

“I said I can’t imagine choosing a different way back then.” She hesitated, but continued then in a hushed voice, the sudden need to explain herself to him again being stronger than her reason. “I do now.”

She felt him spin around and glare at her but kept staring straight ahead.

“You lost me,” he shrugged after a moment, his glare turning a bit more into a frown, still far from sympathetic though. “What do you mean?”

Still avoiding to look at him, her eyes wandering from the windshield down to her hands and back, she sighed and swallowed. She wanted to tell him and at the same time she didn’t, had the words ready on her lips but was yet fumbling for them. Why was it this hard?

“I want to get out.”

“Thought you can’t,” he countered immediately.

“Not just like that, no.”

“Then what?”

She darted him a quick side glance, realizing he always did this when he was angry. Setting the pace, trying to pressure her - but she caught herself thinking he had all right to be angry.

What about me? If he hadn’t showed up tonight… But she didn’t even buy it herself.

“Planning on selling anyone out again?” he spat, and she smiled bitterly. If it was that simple…

“Wouldn’t help me this time.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be hard to get anybody trusting you again anyway.”

“There are only two ways to get out,” she ignored his remark. “Either you die, or you disappear for good.”

“Well, we know dying is out of the question,” he mocked.

“Yeah,” she sighed, tired of his attitude, tired of all of it.

¤¤¤

He heard her sigh, saw her staring ahead for a moment before she put her hands around the keys and turned them in the ignition. The car started, and a moment later they moved over the field, slowly making their way back onto the road. He leaned his head against the window and peered outside.

How had things gotten so fucked up? When had he lost it?

Honestly? Probably the first time you’ve seen her, a mocking voice sneered in his head.But he wasn’t sure if that was true. Rather when I first slept with her. But it felt just as inadequate as an explanation.

Maybe when he had started to work at Division. From that point on things had only gotten worse. Like life was all joy and happiness before, the same voice smirked again. Like his life hadn’t always been a big mess.

Where did it go wrong? he wondered. He remembered the happy days of his childhood, being jaunty and light-hearted. So there had been something else once. Things had been simple. Until…what? Until his parents had died? No, it had become more complicated long time before that. When he had helped dragging a dead body up a stairway and throwing her down? When he had gotten blood on his hands?

You probably were a good and ambitious student before, he suddenly remembered Nina’s words from when she had taken her turn in analyzing him. I’d say you were a very serious kid, didn’t have too many friends your own age, probably got along with adults much better. She had been right. Of course, she had been right. Phil had not only been his best friend, he had even been his only friend. That didn’t make their friendship worth less but… Yes, he had been a serious kid. Too serious for his age and it hadn’t gotten better over the years. He had always felt too mature for his age, too grown up. Helping Phil covering up for the murder of his mum, losing his parents so early – it hadn’t exactly antagonized that trend.

So, what it all comes down to is that things got fucked up when I started to think.

He hesitated, but the more he thought about it the more appealing the conclusion became. It was the pattern of his life, wasn’t it? He had done alright at Division until he had started thinking too much, questioning what he was doing, questioning how he really felt about it. He had been teaching until he had started thinking about his past again and about how he could teach anything to those young, ambitious students. And he wouldn’t be where he was now if he had just stopped thinking about her. At any given point really – after the first interrogation, after Tunisia, after the hotel… None of it would even have happened if he hadn’t tried to understand her. If he had stuck to his own problems, his own messed up head. In the end, he had only himself to blame.

He glanced at her. Driving in silence, her eyes were empty, her face a blank mask. That’s all there is, he tried to tell himself. No feelings underneath, nothing to save, nothing to fix. It would be so much easier if he could believe that.

Nothing to love, a thought flashed his mind, startling him, scaring him. And he made himself remember what she had done, just a few minutes ago, at the edge of that glade. Without as much as blinking, without batting an eyelid. Shouldn’t that cure him from any absurd thought?

Yes, it should. But looking at her only made him having even more uninvited thoughts. Thoughts he couldn’t stop from coming. Because he knew there was something underneath that mask. He just wasn’t sure anymore if he wanted to know.

“If I hadn’t showed up tonight,” he finally broke the silence after a long while and noticed the quick glance she darted him. “If I hadn’t showed up tonight - what would have happened?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “Everybody would be on their way home now.”

He nodded.

“And then? What about tomorrow? What about next week, next month? Is it just going to go on like that?”

“Probably,” she stated with an indifferent voice, but he knew she wasn’t that unmoved. Not with everything she had told him.

“You said you want to get out. So what are you waiting for?”

¤¤¤

Of course, he couldn’t just let it go. He had to ask, had to know. And she couldn’t keep herself from thinking that he deserved to know.

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I have to wait for the right moment,” she explained vaguely, but he didn’t accept that either.

“And when would that be?”

She hesitated, wondering herself if she wasn’t just fooling herself. Would that moment really ever come?

Yes, it will.

But was she really willing to take that step? Maybe her life wasn’t exactly fulfilling, but it was everything she had. If she gave that up – what was she supposed to do? Just sit around somewhere on a tropic island? Watching the tides change, the seasons pass?

Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.

“You were right,” she explained. “It’s all about the money. I need one last job. A big one.”

“So that you can make enough to disappear for good?”

“Steal enough. Yes,” she confirmed, part of her shaking her head inwardly. Why was she telling him?

Calm down. It’s not like he’s going to tell anyone. She knew that. But still… It wasn’t like her to trust anyone with that kind of information. She had never shared more than she absolutely had to and she couldn’t see why she had to start breaking that habit now.

“Were you going to tell me?” he asked, and she could hear how he made an effort to make it sound indifferent, casual, as if he didn’t really care. “Were you going to tell me what you’re planning?” he repeated when she didn’t answer.

“What do you think?” she countered and he finally fell silent.

She stole another glance at him, suddenly becoming aware again of the shape he was in.

“Where’s your stuff?”

“In a locker at the airport,” he muttered hesitant.

“Well, you can’t show up there like this.” They were not in the United States but even European Airport Security would wonder about a passenger looking all beat up and bruised and ask a whole lot of questions. “We need to find a motel or some place to get you cleaned up.” And get this cleared up. She couldn’t just drop him off like that.

Why not? What do you want to do instead? Sit and hold his hand?

This was why she would never have told him. A simple goodbye without him having any idea it was the last one – it would have been so much easier. Now things were all complicated again and the last illusion of ease had vanished.

It’s still not complicated. Make sure he’s alright, say your goodbyes, leave. How much less complicated could it be?

They drove in silence for a long time, until she finally spotted a motorway motel and pulled onto the parking lot. It wasn’t hard to get a room, no questions asked, no problems with the check-in, and a few minutes later she maneuvered Nick inside without anyone noticing his condition.

He still hadn’t said a word and the look on his face made it clear that he didn’t want any help from her. So she just watched him getting out of the car, still holding his side, grimacing against the pain, and let him have it his way. If it made him feel better…

Once inside, he slumped down onto the bed, shifting between lying and sitting to find a comfortable position while she locked the door and checked the room. Checked the window, the visual range she had on what was going on outside, discerning dead angles and possible covers. It was more than unlikely that anyone would find them here, even look for them, but she checked anyway. At least it gave her something to focus on.

Finally turning around again, though, she just stood there, insecure what to do next. She hadn’t planned for this, and for once, she didn’t know what to do.

¤¤¤

Standing by the window, looking at him, she seemed indecisive about how to deal with the situation. And he realized he hadn’t seen her like that before. He had seen her hesitate or weighing her options but never like this. Almost a bit nervous, almost a bit at a loss.

Her cell phone rang and he watched her checking the display, noticed the change in her face when she was suddenly focused and composed again. She aborted the call but moved towards the door with the device in her hand.

“I have to make a call,” she stated curtly and gave him a quick glance as if expecting some kind of reaction, but he just stared back, keeping his own expression motionless.

She walked out and he sighed, leaning his head back against the pillow. It was probably about the job. She would have to explain to someone what had happened – or rather what she wanted whoever she was working for to think had happened. He wondered what kind of story she would come up with. And what would happen if she wasn’t convincing enough.

They’d kill me, her words echoed in his head. I’m no threat as long as I’m playing by the rules. But he doubted that tonight had been playing by the rules. Killing her own people and lying about it - probably not what was expected of her.

He searched his pockets for his cigarettes and lit one, inhaling deeply before his rips protested, causing him to cough and groan at the pain.

The problem was he believed her. He believed all of it. That she didn’t really have a choice now, that she hadn’t really had a choice back then in Africa. He had wondered himself how many people were after her, only he had never seriously pursued the question. How does she protect herself? How does she avoid surprises like the one with Travis and Jared? If he had, maybe he would have figured it out by himself, done the math. If they were able to find her there, why shouldn’t they find her in Africa, find her permanent residence. If she still had one there. She could have moved to Alaska for all he knew.

That’s cause you don’t know too much, do you? the irritating voice inside him mocked again.

No, he had been too busy living in a fantasy world. He couldn’t even blame her for not being honest with him. It wasn’t like he had pressured her. He had just been stupid enough to assume that she wasn’t…that she had somehow changed.

Right. What had he been thinking she was doing all day? Translating manuals and articles? With all her knowledge, experience and background, all her credentials? He shook his head. She was right. He could be so naïve…

No, it all made sense and he believed her. It was something else that was hard to take in.

The truth is, I can’t see myself making any other decision than the one I made.

As if she was fine with it. As if she didn’t think there was anything wrong about it. No regrets, no guilt, no conscience.

No, that wasn’t true. And it wasn’t what she meant. She had just repeated something she had already explained to him before, that night at his apartment, when she had told him about that side in her that needed the adrenaline, the thrill, the kick. That only felt alive when the stakes were high, that knew she was doing something horrible but couldn’t feel anything at it. He knew about that part of her. And she hadn’t revealed anything new by telling him again tonight. So why was he acting all shocked and surprised now?

The door opened and she was back, her expression not giving anything away but he was sure things had gone well. No need to worry she hadn’t been convincing.

She walked into the room, dropping her cell on the table next to the small TV set, and gave him a disapproving look when she noticed the cigarette. He knew she didn’t like it and he usually didn’t smoke when he was with her.

“I thought you had quit.”

“I’ll quit smoking when you stop killing people,” he retorted, taking a last drag before stubbing out the butt.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t reply, taking her jacket off and tossing it over the only chair in the room.

“You should take a shower or at least wash your face,” she suggested, looking as if she was already making plans again.

I want to get out, her words from earlier suddenly echoed in his mind. Why had she even bothered to tell him?Why had she explained, no, actually defended herself? She never did.

He hesitated.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re working again?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t understand,” she remarked offhandedly, once again making her way over to the window and peering outside.

Surprised at the unexpected admission, he stared at her back, not sure if this was a good thing or not, or what to make of the fact that a part of him was relieved at her answer. Because I knew you wouldn’t understand…

“Since when do you care? Since when do you care if anyone understands, or what anyone thinks of you?” What I think of you.

Turning her head an idea, she stared at him, obviously realizing as well that she had given away more than she had intended to. And once again, he made the rare observation of seeing her insecure, speechless even, apparently, at least for a moment.

¤¤¤

She turned back to the window, smothering a heavy sigh. Whether he had trapped her intentionally or not - she had made a mistake.

“I don’t,” she tried to save what was left to save. I don’t. If she did, it meant that she cared about him“If I did, I wouldn’t have let things get this far.” She glanced over her shoulder, quickly looking him up and down. “And if I cared about you, I wouldn’t have let you get in the middle of all this, would I?” she tried to make her case. “I would have insisted that you stay away from me.” But the smirk on his face told her he wasn’t buying it.

“Maybe someone else would see it that way,” he stated, his voice heavy with mockery, “but you’re not that noble. You’re hardly the unselfish martyr putting your own interests aside for the sake of someone else. You don’t believe in self-sacrifice.”

Peering out into the darkness, she wished she could object but the problem was that he was right and they both knew it. She really wasn’t that noble.

“No, you told me to stay away from you because you were afraid of what would happen to you – not to me. To you. And you only gave in when you realized I’m good for you.”

Good for me? She wanted to protest. Where’s the good in this?

“You keep meeting with me because you get something out of it. Something you need, something that’s worth the trouble and the risk.“

“Yes,” she admitted, seeing her chance to gain the upper hand again. “It was your idea to find some distraction in each other and I admit it was a good one.” She sneered. “I hope you’re not going to blame me now for taking your offer.”

He snorted. “A distraction? That’s all it was to you, huh?“

“As hard as that must be for your ego – that’s exactly what it was. Nothing more.“

She heard him move and darted another glance over her shoulder, seeing him getting up from the bed and to his feet, an amused expression on his face.

“You know, if you want to get out, you shouldn’t wait too long. You used to lie a lot better than that.”

She tried to think of a good response but frankly couldn’t come up with any. She didn’t know what to say.

“If you were just looking for a good distraction,” he continued, moving towards the bathroom door, still pressing one hand onto his side, “you could have picked up some random guy any time. No need to cling to me of all people. And if you really didn’t give a damn about me, you wouldn’t have shot three of your own men to save my sorry ass. Not that you cared about them but killing them is trouble, and you’re avoiding trouble whenever you can.” Reaching the bathroom, he leaned against the doorframe for a second, supporting himself before making his last point. “And that’s also why you weren’t going to tell me. Why you would have played along until that last job would have come up and then just run off and disappeared without ever letting me know why.” She turned her back on him again. “It’s easier, it’s avoiding trouble. Because you do care - and that, that is trouble. At least from your perspective.“

She still didn’t say anything, focusing on not moving, on not encouraging him even more than she already was by staying so passive.

A few moments later, she heard the bathroom door being slammed shut behind him.

She kept staring into the dark, struggling a little longer but then finally giving up. He was right and she realized she was too tired to make up explanations just to stay in her blissful state of denial. It wasn’t that blissful anyway.

You get something out of it. Something you need, something that’s worth the trouble and the risk.

She did. And she used to think that it was just these few hours of forgetting and ignoring, the refuge they created every time they took off from the real world. The way he sometimes looked at her, the way he almost seemed to see something else than everybody else, something else than she saw herself when she looked in the mirror. Never longer than a few moments but she remembered every one of them. It felt good as long as it lasted but hurt even more when it was over. And it always was eventually. And she could see even that in his eyes then: the process of realization, remembrance, awareness, and finally - inevitably - guilt.

If she cared about him, she would have ended it? Spared him the inner struggle? Well, the thought had hit her. But he was right – she didn’t believe in self-sacrifice. He had something she needed, and he was a grown-up, old enough to make his own decisions. If he thought he could take it, she wouldn’t try to convince him otherwise.

She had thought it was the part where he made her forget that made her come back time after time and that was worth all the trouble and even the pain of the inevitable disillusionment right after. But that was only half the story, only half the truth. Now she realized that she needed that disillusionment just as much. To remind her of what she was, what she had been, and what she didn’t want to be anymore. To remind her of what she had to do if she ever wanted to be able to see something different in the mirror again. And he was the only one who could give her that. She could find someone who didn’t know, who just saw a façade, a stranger - whatever they wanted to see. But Nick was the only one who knew what he was dealing with, saw who she really was.

She sighed. And who still sticks around. Why was that?

¤¤¤

Nick put his hands around the edges of the sink and leaned closer towards the mirror, waiting a few seconds before looking up and meeting his own reflection. He really was in a bad shape.

The blood on his face and shirt had dried by now, the skin around his left eye had started to turn into a dark blue, and just the sight of it all brought the pain back. He tried to take a deep breath and more pain shot through his body, reminding him that his face wasn’t the only body part they had worked on. He smothered a groan and straightened up, trying to make it easier on his lungs and airways.

He noticed his hand twitching and then his whole body started shaking while he watched himself turning paler. He could feel his blood pressure rising.

About time, he thought sarcastically, knowing it was his brain finally processing what had happened tonight and his body working it out. He could have died.

No, I could die any given day of my life. That was not the point. It was not just the theoretical possibility of death he had faced tonight – he had been seconds or a few inches away from dying. If his capturers had decided to finish him off without consulting their boss, if Nina had decided he wasn’t more important than her deal going off smoothly, not to mention if he had managed to get them both killed in a stupid car accident.

He let go of the sink and clenched his fists in a weak attempt to gain control over his body, but in vain. Realizing he had to let his body have it its way, he tumbled back and leaned against the shower stall.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He should be sitting somewhere behind an oak desk, reading, writing, researching. Analyzing, theorizing, maybe teaching. He wasn’t supposed to get involved into terrorist activities, witness whatever sale it was they had just made. The closest he had ever gotten to all that was in the interrogation rooms and offices at Division, and even there just second-hand, just from a safe distance. And there was a reason why he had turned his back on all that. But at least he had been on the right side back then. Hadn’t he? Everything he had done had been meant to do good, to stop crimes and attacks, to protect innocent lives, innocent citizens. Maybe he had been too soft for the job but the thing itself had been good, no? Division, intelligence services, the government – that was the right side, wasn’t it? The good side.

Really? He stared at his reflection. What side exactly was that? The side of this country. But is everything that is best for your country automatically good? Is supporting dictators and financing terrorists good as long as it secures resources and destabilizes a political enemy? Are human rights and the rule of law negligible from time to time? Is the definition of good that bendy? Are you?

It was true - everything he had done at Division he had done to help averting crimes, foiling attacks, to protect innocent Americans. But did that mean he had been on the right side?

No, it doesn’t. And that was why he had left Division, why he couldn’t do his job anymore. There’s no such thing as good and bad. There were just sides. A lot of them. And there’s probably no such thing as innocence. He had seen too much to remain in blissful ignorance. And it was also why he couldn’t teach anymore. He couldn’t talk about what he had seen, but how could he not tell the truth he had found? How could he teach young students but only teach them a limited fragment of the complex world he was supposed to prepare them for? He had tried to keep it simple, to stick to his field. But every now and then he was reminded of the rest, asked to leave his ivory tower. Every time he took off and ran.

He shook his head, again trying to clench his fists and stop the shivering. Let’s not lose perspective here. Whatever reasons he had for leaving Division and for messing up his life – it didn’t change a thing about what had happened tonight. No one had forced him to go after Nina, no one suggested to him to get close to her.

He closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the plastic wall in his back. Who exactly was he making excuses for – for himself or for her? He could philosophize all he wanted but the fact remained that what she had done – and obviously still did – was wrong. He could see her reasons, understand her way of thinking, or put himself in her shoes for a while, but it didn’t change a thing. And for once it was really simple: either he could live with it or not. There was no middle ground.

No, but there’s always retreat. And why shouldn’t he pull back? Even if he had been right, even if she cared, if she had some sort of regret and a conscience – it obviously wasn’t enough. She couldn’t even bring herself to say it, let alone act on it. And even if she wanted to change…

He had tried the best he could, but maybe she was right - maybe she couldn’t be fixed. She wasn’t willing to let him try to say the least. And he couldn’t see any longer what had made him believe he should be the one to do anything about it.

He was so tired and he sank down to sit up against the wall. Why was he putting himself through all this when she so obviously rejected his efforts? Why should he be the one to struggle when she avoided it? He was done here.

Time to go home. It wouldn’t spare him the struggle with his conscience over what had happened but it would make things easier. And safer. He would just wait a little, sit here and let his body catch up with everything. With the shock. He shouldn’t be shocked really, should have known better. But what could he say – he really could be shockingly naïve.

He heard the door creaking and felt her standing there but didn’t look up. He could imagine the mocking expression on her face and he didn’t want to see it right now. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing, find a steady rhythm, set the pace for himself. In and out, in and out, in and out…

He sensed her moving, heard the faucet being turned on and water running but kept his eyes closed. He would tell her. He would tell her and then he would leave. He just needed to gather a bit more strength. In and out…

Something wet touched his face and he jerked his eyes open to see her kneeling in front of him. It was a wet towel being run over his forehead, soaking up the cold sweat, almost softly moving on to wipe away the dried blood. Meeting her eyes, he wasn’t sure what it was he saw in them. She seemed serious. For once, there was no mockery, no smirking. But it certainly was yet to come. Sitting around on the filthy floor, shaking, shivering – not quite the tough behaviour she was used to.

¤¤¤

He brought his hand up to stop her, to push her away, and she withdrew her own, leaving it to him to keep the cool towel pressed against his forehead. He did and closed his eyes once again and she sank further back, sitting down opposite him with as much space between them as possible in the narrow room.

“Not quite a surprise,” he remarked with a shaky voice, looking at her defiantly. “At least one of us shows a normal reaction.”

A human reaction, she thought. That was what he meant. A normal person wouldn’t be that unmoved by what had happened, wouldn’t be as indifferent as she was. She had let her gaze trail off but feeling him glare at her, she looked up again as she spoke.

“I knew you would despise me if I’d told you.” I knew there’s no way you could handle knowing I’m still active.

She had to force herself not to avoid his eye but seeing how startled he was didn’t make it easier, reminding her of the magnitude of her admission.

“You’re right,” she stated curtly. You’re right about everything, she wanted to tell him but couldn’t. The words just froze on her lips. She couldn’t bring herself to say them. Too strong was the part of her that told her not to make herself that vulnerable. Why exactly? She didn’t know anymore. And somewhere, almost secretly, she hoped that he would understand anyway, that he would see it in her eyes if she just kept riveting them on his.

You’re right. I tried not to let it come this far because I knew we might end up here. And a part of me still wishes I had never given my consent, never let it happen, never gotten this attached. But I do get something out of it, she thought sadly. And I didn’t want it to be over.

He was returning her gaze, his tired eyes staring back at her, but she couldn’t read in them, couldn’t tell if he understood or not.

“I don’t know what you saw in me,” she suddenly continued aloud, “but I didn’t want you to stop seeing it. Because whatever it is, you’re the only one who can see it.” She couldn’t. “And every time you remember what I am, every time you feel guilty about it,” she had to pause, “I do too.”

He just stared at her with his mouth open and his breathing still a bit shaky, and although a part of her wanted to know what was going on inside of him, it was probably better not to know. It was hurting enough already.

Hurting? It wasn’t hurting.

Not yet maybe, but it will.

He blinked, and she cast her eyes down, letting her gaze wander over everything that wasn’t him, swallowing, and feeling every muscle in her tense, aching to get away.

“You should lie down for a moment and get some rest,” she suggested, getting up to her feet and making her way to the door. “I can drop you off at the airport later.”