Pandora Guns

Outskirts of Buenos Aires, Argentina - 2100 hours

Covered in foliage, was an old outpost, which could have easily been mistaken for part of the landscape in the moonlight. Separated from the city by a large body of water, these forgotten lands were rarely visited. Standing at the water's edge, on sand, was a Caucasian man. His face was revealed in the moonlight, the face of a young man, but the eyes of a hardened soldier. Short, oily hair, with tips that curled, bushy eye brows, a narrow nose, morning stubble, and strong green eyes that were set back in their sockets more than normal. Nineteen years of age, on his medium set frame, he wore a tactical vest, clearly used by it's appearance, with fabric fraying at some of the stitches. With too many pockets to count at a glance, he held a wide variety of items and equipment, including a Bowie knife, two hand grenades, a radio, and energy bars.

Unfastening the velcro on one of his pockets, his dirty fingers removed one of the energy bars, a Cliff Bar, chocolate flavored. Taking a bite of the bar with his unbrushed teeth, he pulled the bar from the wrapper and littered the plastic into the waters at his feet. Squatting down, his cargo pants split a hair more at the left knee. Scooping up some of the cool water with his right hand, he splashed it on his face. He shook his head back and forth, feeling refreshed. Spitting into the water, he stood up to his feet and turned about face. With medium-long strides he returned to the outpost and opened a weathered, wooden door.

Striking a match inside the dark room, he lit three candles in the center of the room. The light illuminated enough to reveal an unmaintained room with various items scattered over the floor. Resting on a table with a broken leg, was an Automatic Kalashnikov. It was an old model, covered with spots of rust. He had found the firearm here, left behind by previous occupants. Picking up the rifle, he looked down the iron sights, the fast sighting, pistol like iron sights that were built for ease and speed, not for long range, accurate shooting. Flipping the rifle over, he blew the dust out of the magazine well. On his vest, he opened a pocket and removed a thirty round, AK-47 magazine, fully loaded with the short .308 rounds. Hooking the front in first, he snapped the back of the magazine in and pulled the bolt back. With a familiar sound, the bolt slammed forward, loading the first bullet into chamber. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he removed a state of the art sound suppressor from his pocket, one specially designed for the AK. Taking a few minutes to clean the threads at the end of the barrel, he twisted on the sound dampening device.

Stepping outside, he selected semi-automatic fire, sighted the rifle at a man sized boulder a few hundred feet off, and bent his finger from its indexed state. With controlled breathing, he took sight in the moonlight, and pulled the trigger back. The simplistic, legendary reliability design of the firing mechanism did not fail, as the pin hit the end of the bullet, causing the gunpowder inside the casing to explode, sending the lead bullet out of the rifle at high speeds. Hitting the rock, the bullet ricocheted away. Expectations met, he returned inside and mumbled a few words to himself, feeling forgotten about since finishing his last mission.

A week had passed and nothing. No new assignments, no responses to his outgoing messages. He had been told to wait for further orders once he had finished the job, that is what he was doing. Sometimes he thought to himself why he had ever decided keep this job, the danger, the waiting, it discouraged him at times. Grabbing his cell phone off the table, he turned it on, leaving it off most of the time as he had limited battery. No signal. Meandering around outside, he finally was able to get a signal. An alert message told him he had one new email. Opening it, he read: "Elijah, you are to meet with your new partner, Sam." That was all. No time, no date, no location. Elijah wanted to reply but felt like it would be in vain.

A new partner. How many had he been through in the past six months? Too many to remember. They didn't stay alive long around him most of the time, either taking an unintentional bullet for him or making a careless mistake. A part of Elijah felt responsible for their unfortunate deaths. Another part saw it as fate, that they were not strong enough to survive. In fact, Elijah was not the strongest, the fastest, or the most accurate. He shined with his tactics, tactics which often led him to catching others with their pants down.

Winding down a few hours later, he laid down on a pile of blankets on the floor of the outpost. Rolling back and forth to get comfortable, Elijah found the most comfortable spot and breathed out through his nose. His comfortable pillow made all the difference. Closing his eyes, he heard a faint noise, one that he imme­­diately recognized. The front door!

Flipping up to his feet, armed with a Škorpion vz 61 in each hand (which had been hidden underneath his pillow) he cautiously swept the machine pistols through the room, covering the door to his room with the guns. "Hello?" He swallowed, eyes aware, looking for the slightest movement to unload at. Elijah thought of the text message, maybe they had meant that the new partner would find him that night. If that was the case, they weren't losing their touch. The floor around the corner, just out of sight, creaked. Keeping his composure, he said, "Sam?"

(RPG for Elijah and Sam only)

Central America, an undisclosed location in Costa Rica 1100

“Elijah Walker, recruited by Trinity Division at the age of thirteen – took his first mark a year after that, his rap sheet should speak volumes… Miss Revlon, are you following?” A rugged throttled voice spoke behind the thin white documented sheet of paper. He was a tall man, well built into his late thirties with salt and pepper hair. The sort of looks that an ex-agent held. The features were tatted along a strong jaw and a few abrasive injuries that had been sustained only seem to give the male an edge to his suit and tie. Ebony colored hues stared down at the young woman, who had laced a leg over the arm of the chair. He cleared his throat, his gaze delving back to the young novelty face before him.

“I hear you, ever word Mr. Pennyworth,” her voice carried off with it an air of arrogance a bit of sultry emphasis to the man’s nickname. A feminine hand had grasped the sheet of paper when it was handed to her, eyes hidden by a pair of black shades, her gaze rolled over every mark and kill before the words subconsciously left her lips, “Jesus… He’s quite the killer, oh I hope he’s good looking,” a flirty grin spread across those full lips as she sat upright. A brow perked behind the lenses, looking at the agent – “So where do I find our true blue?”

“Thirty-four, zero-zero, S, sixty-four, zero-zero, W” They were coordinates, spoken with an abbreviated pun to each number.

Samantha had sat up, legs pulling themselves together as she stood and stole the barely lit cigar from the ash-tray; it wasn’t hers, but she didn’t mind. With a quick inhale that creamy white spoke spilled from her lips, a hand running through the midnight blue locks that fell around waistline. “Argentina? Well I always did want to visit the islands.”

Argentina, 2200 hours

The smell of roasted peanuts and tropical flavors filled her senses, the cold wind splashing against her face as she had reached the small, slightly savory island. This was where he was last at and from what information she had dug up and a lucky surveillance tape she had lifted off the men from the docks, she had caught him boarding a boat. Her only assumption led her to this place and when the boat had docked, she had hoped out, tying it down with some ease before moving.

Given his record, it wasn’t wise to tempt fate – she could have very well ended up on his long list of names, perhaps with a new category: friendly fire. Still, she wanted to see what all the fuss was about, it wasn’t everyday she got to deal with real-skilled partners. They were usually old, veterans in the game, who couldn’t handle a mouth like hers. The thin silver-steel aviator shades were pulled back into the thick head of hair, where she had tied it back to a ponytail. The young woman touched her early youth years, perhaps the prime of it all – seventeen, perhaps eighteen. Dressed in a formal black combat pants, they were sized for her lean frame and a long sleeve body-hugging shirt fit snugly to her curves. With nothing more than a black and steely grey fatigue vest, she had traded it in for the jacket, going for a lighter look.

Barefoot she had reached the porch when the wood under her had given a soft whine – and a curse left her mind mentally. With a quick move she had reached up and like the strength of a gymnast pulled herself up, soundless as she could.

“Sam?”

He spoke, a gun drawn and instantly she drew hers – a model SW1991 TFP with eight rounds in the chamber. The caliber was a simple .45ACP with a black melonite finish, but it didn’t take a scientist to figure out that a shot to the back of a head at this range could kill. Instead, she aimed at the gun and shot a round, hitting the weapon in his hand where it slid across the dash. Instinctively she lunged at him from behind, knocking them both to the floor and her weapon went sliding out of range too. Those brown hues drew up a silent ‘-shit’ falling from her lips as she reached for his hands, to get them behind his back. When he struggled, she pulled her fist back and threw it, aimed at his head to try and knock the trained man unconscious.

Bang! A pistol round was fired from close range, missing Elijah but hitting the Skorpion in his right hand. The sudden impact coupled with the surprise easily took the machine pistol from his grasp. Wearing no shirt and sweat pants, he felt the assailant tackle him from behind, offsetting his balance too quickly for him to recover, taking him down to the floor. In the struggle, his other Skorpion that was in his left hand was knocked aside. Unable to brace himself as he slammed on the ground, as his hands were held behind his back. The belly flop on the hard floor knocked the wind out of him. Momentarily, he appeared to be at the attacker's mercy.

Dazed, Elijah waited for the air to refill his lungs. Although he was unable to fight back during these few seconds, he did not waste a moment of the time. Feeling how heavy the attacker was on his back, he knew that they had a smaller frame, one that he could most likely overpower with a well timed roll. Catching his breath, he felt the attacker switch to holding his wrists with only one hand. One of three events could follow. A fist to the back of his head or neck, a knife to the throat, or a pistol round through his head. Whatever it was, Elijah didn't want to find out. While he was catching his breath, he had extended his left leg out at a forty five degree angle from his body. With all his strength in his leg, he pushed off of the ground with his bare foot.

Turning the tables, he wound up on top of the assailant, chest up, his considerably heavier weight pinning the attacker down. Still they held onto his wrists, which surprised him. Thrusting his elbows up and out, his hands slipped from their restraint. Free, he arched his back, lifting off of the attacker, only his hands and feet in contact with the floor. Exerting a powerful spring push with his feet, like that of a grasshopper, his legs rose in an arc, until they were nearly straight up. Rotating on his wrists, he held himself upside down for a moment, as his head turned back. Elijah's eyes met hers, time seemed to slow.

Letting his legs continue in the arc, he pushed off with his hands, similar to how he had done with his feet. Curling his legs, his upward momentum carried him to his feet. Remaining there for the blink of an eye, he dove and rolled on the floor, touching down with his right hand and making a line of contact up his arm, to his right shoulder, down his back at a slant to his left hip, and back up to his feet again. Now in his possession was her 1911, Elijah pointed the handgun at her, as she was getting up to her feet.

Flipping the 1911 around, so that the barrel was pointed at himself, he closed the distance between them and held out her weapon by the slide. "Here, I believe this belongs to you." Smiling as she took her handgun, he watched her eyes sweep over it, checking to see if it had taken in damage when it was knocked out of her hands. Walking over to his two Skorpions, he laughed at the dent in one of them. "Now I can tell them apart." He shoved the machine pistols in the sides of his sweats with ease due to the elastic waistline expanding. Extending his arm to shake hers, he said, "Name's Elijah Walker, but something tells me you already knew that." Noticing her eyes looking at his bare, toned chest, he smiled and walked over to the blankets were he slept. Putting on a fresh, cotton, short sleeved shirt, he called out, "Thirsty?"

Elijah returned with two Coca-Colas in glass bottles that were room temperature. This was because he did not have a power supply at the outpost. His only means of electricity there were a few small solar panels that he used mainly to recharge his cellular phone. Offering her a soda first, he popped the cap off and guzzled half of the beverage. "Sam right?" He pushed a few items that were strewn on the floor to the walls of the room, trying to clear a more open space in the center of the room. While he was working to clean up the space, he thought about her skill and appearance. She had nearly sneaked up on him, shot a well aimed shot at one of his guns, had put up a very good fight, was young and attractive. Hopefully she did not end up as a distraction for him in battle. Finishing up, he smiled, "You have a last name?"

The balance began to shift when he moved – her mind a mere blank as she acted on instinct alone.

He was quick – real quick, with a body that didn’t fail to slow him down. Elijah was on her in one moment and then to his feet next, agile as the descriptive agent was supposed to be. A heartbeat passed and the barrel of her SW1911 was staring down at her face – a perfect shot and she, with a hand behind her back, fingers around the pocket Baretta 3032 Tomcat.

It wasn’t necessary though, in a fluid motion her pistol was returned to her and that warm gaze connected. “Here, I believe this belongs to you,” he smiled – which was rare to see in the field nowadays. Most were harden, stoic men and even when they were in civilian clothes; their minds were too razor sharp to even balk a grin. His was warm, spreading like peanut butter across those lips and she glanced away – choosing to check her gun out of habit. Tucking it away in the black belt that held those fatigues up, her gaze went back towards him as he made a short comment, about his Scorpions.

Amazing – he wasn’t even angry and before she had placed that gun securely away – a hand was in front of her, that Marc Jacobs smile crossed those juvenile features. "Name's Elijah Walker, but something tells me you already knew that." His hand hung there openly, but those ebony hues traveled off that strong jaw and over the flesh collarbone, brazen chest and taut abs until Sam offered up a slight smile in return. The young male left, modest and returned with a cotton shirt that was filled out quite nicely – at least he’s good-looking, her thoughts slipped and she moved toward the railing of the small lifted balcony, leaning on it. The old wood had creaked out of discomfort and a lack of use, but it was sturdy, sturdy enough to support Revlon’s weight.

“Thirsty?” He questioned.

“Very.” She responded, unsure of what he really meant until the warm glass-bottled soda was handed to her. The print and logo was faded, but genuinely in good condition, especially when that soft ‘ssst’ sound escaped it as the bottle was popped.

“Sam right?” His voice was in the room now, cleaning up as best as a military dog could – it didn’t really matter, she knew the sort of indifference she suffered from others at times. “You have a last name?” Elijah questioned, now finally settling in and she, stole a seat on the broken table. The pair of long legs crossed at the ankles and she leaned forward, the empty bottled soda abandoned outside.

The weather here was humid – wretched, she could feel the sweat collecting under the small of her pits, neckline and the back of her neck. “It’s Revlon,” she spoke, fingers trailing to her hair as she let it down – deciding that their little spar was over with. He legitimately won and she was rather thankful he hadn’t taken things seriously, but then again she knew next time she would put a little effort into it. An impish smile crawled on the young woman’s features, dark eyes setting on the outline of Elijah’s body – not too dependant on sight along. She had a weak left eye from an up-close encounter of a flash bang.

“Consider me your liaison,” she joked, friendly. There wasn’t much of her dressed provocatively, considering her attire was military, but she let the joke grow flat. “Well I’m Samantha Revlon, Sam for short – pick and chose, I’m not picky,” her voice was soft and she waved a hand in a friendly motion. “Oh right – the boys probably didn’t send much info,” her gaze went around the room and the lack thereof of technology. “Course I don’t think they could if they wanted to…” The words trailed off those full lips as she fixed at those aviator shades.

“Well I’m eighteen, been at this since before I could walk. Orphaned at a young age, no family ties – you know, just the way the organization likes ‘em,” she spoke, briefly, not at all in the slightest hint of sadness or mourning. “Don’t play well with others and given your track record of partners, I’m guessing that’s why they paired us up – couple of real losers huh?” Her grin widen, deciding to push a few buttons.

“Shake it off, don’t let it get to you… Partner.”

Those legs.... Elijah snapped back to reality. "Revlon." He repeated, so as to remember her last name better, having not heard the uncommon surname before. Sam sat on the table that was beyond repair, not a very comfortable seat, but better than the chairs that were in pieces. Standing beside her, he thought about what would happen if it gave out from under her. Surely he could catch her before she hit the ground. Distracting him from his thoughts, Sam let down her tied hair and said with humor, "Consider me your liaison." Elijah raised his right eyebrow, could have laughed but remained silent, in case he was interpreting the double entendre the wrong way.

“Well I’m Samantha Revlon, Sam for short – pick and choose, I’m not picky." Elijah moved his pointer finger back and forth, as if he was trying to decide between the two. The motion with his hand stopped. "Sam it is." She continued on, assuming that he had not been given much intel, then backing up her assumption with proof: the outdated outpost they were residing in. Impressed, he nodded, "You're right on target."

Telling Elijah her age and a short summary of her history, he understood that she had to have a strong will, to be all alone at a young age and push through the pain of rejection from her parents. Her voice, as soft and sweet as it sounded, was difficult to near impossible to detect any sadness underlying it. Either she had worked through the pain, or it had been hidden away, remaining dormant, ready to awaken at a stressful situation.

“Don’t play well with others and given your track record of partners, I’m guessing that’s why they paired us up – couple of real losers huh?” She poked at him, purposefully he believed. Elijah narrowed his eyes. He hated to lose at anything, especially involving his partners in missions. It was a miracle the Trinity Division was still using his talents. They continued to because his success rate was high, even with his flaws that plagued him nearly every assignment.

Unintentionally glancing down at the floor, he felt like he had accomplished so much, yet had brought death upon many others that were undeserving. Sam comforted him, “Shake it off, don’t let it get to you… Partner.” Like rays of sunlight hitting solar panels, her words charged him up, brought him up from his thoughts on his failures. "You're right again, partner." He smiled, "The past doesn't decide the future." Taking a step forward he reached beside her and grabbed hold of the AK on the other side of the table, still having the silencer threaded on. Pulling the bolt back, a round was loaded into the chamber. Elijah walked over to the door, pushing it open with his foot. "Our future is like this bullet. It starts here, but there is no telling where it will end up."

Holding the automatic rifle at his hip, he pointed it up at an angle and fired a shot. Under most circumstances it was too dangerous to perform such actions, but this outpost, here on the outskirts of Buenos Aires was not threatening for the most part. The sound suppressor on the end of the AK dramatically decreased the sound output, falling off to a sound less than a whisper at two hundred yards. She looked concerned by his rash action. "Don't worry, it's safe here."

Propping the assault rifle up against the wall near the door, he walked back to where she was seated on the broken table. "I'm nineteen. I was brought up by my Dad, a retired Marine who taught me most of what I am today." He ran his fingers through his oily hair, getting sidetracked. "He was the best shot around. I tried to learn, but never came close to having as steady of a hand. He was known for his 'low shot', where he would fix a man at one thousand yards by shooting off his..." Elijah stopped, embarrassed, forgetting that he was in the presence of a lady. "Never mind."

Squeezing the hand grips on his Skorpions, Elijah regained his composure. "Anyway, I learned to think critically from him, more than anything else; how to infiltrate, capture, destroy, and survive." Leaning back against the table Sam was sitting on, he did not think about the extra force that was being exerted on the table by his weight. It began to shake, then collapsed all at once. Moving himself in her path, he used himself to cushion her fall to the wooden floor. He smiled, seeing that she was uninjured, "One check off my to do list."

Two candles remained – the wax had burnt low having dripped off and pooled to the floor – with just the flames to dance. Elijah’s voice filled the room briefly, before he shot a round into the distance – one that cast a small alarmed look across her face. “You should have aimed higher,” she joked faintly, casting the come from under her breath. He was warm, from what she could make of it – not in all the man she had pictured, one whose hands was stained so much blood that it corrupted the individual himself. A little tired perhaps, but he was so rooted into the job itself that the words ‘vacation’ didn’t seem to fit in his vocab. Those dark hues glanced around the room – half wondering if she had caught him in what he might define a time-away from a job.

It wasn’t impressive.

Sam’s gaze was on the young man’s back, taking in the sight of his build, physique and down that lean torso. He held the aptitude of strength, but fell short on predictability. Most men were easy to guess – especially those whose social life was zero outside civilian clothes. She felt herself falling into a small loop – listening to the talk of his Father as he divulged information. Walker – she knew that name, it’d come up in the past, but always only in office settings when the males were clicking together like some rooster-fest.

“He was the best shot around. I tried to learn, but never came close to having as steady of a hand. He was known for his ‘low shot’, where he would fix a man at one thousand yards by shooting off his…” And then he paused, causing the girl to cock her head to the side – she had been drawn into the story and the hook-line had too many openings for her to fill. Was it a double-meaning or something deeper he couldn’t bring himself to say? He ended it with a stern, “Never mind.” It took a lot of restraint not to click her tongue in retort; she didn’t want to seem too invested.

"Anyway, I learned to think critically from him, more than anything else; how to infiltrate, capture, destroy, and survive." The young woman found herself in the conversation, eyes trailing him as he had leaned against the table – where it began to whine. She knew balance, knew of the riggity leg before she sat on it, but she hadn’t anticipated for him to join her. When it collapsed, she closed her eyes anxiously, anticipating the floor but felt a body underneath her instead – with that same, stupid smile on his face.

When he sat up and her, still in his lap – Sam didn’t move, but instead pressed the Bobcat under his chin, a thumb catching the tip of the chamber, pulling it back as it clicked – gun loaded. “Did you ever think that maybe I wasn’t Sam?” She paused for effect, gaze looking up along the jaw line and into those hues that were staring down at her. The young woman didn’t need to laugh or play coy, the silence alone was more than enough damage and she knew that his mind was awake, alert now. That expression on her face flat-lined, cold like the killers he met on the job and what was worse, she could feel any inkling of movement or muscle – the slightest jolt could send the gun off. “Come on, think Elijah, Trinity has a lot of enemies that are gunning for the elite or what – did you let your guard down because I have a pretty face?” The barrel of the gun ‘clicked’ at the sound of the trigger being pulled– empty and she, tucked her feet under her to stand, placing the gun in her back pocket. Having made her point.

“I know Walker, well,” she corrected herself, looking at him, “I know stories of him and if you’re his son, then I’m assuming he wasn’t around look enough to teach you a thing about women.” When it was fixed she had leaned against the window, arms crossing over the small waistline. “You’re nice Elijah, but predictable – I’m a partner, that means that I stand beside you, not behind you or in front of you to hold your hand.” She moved over towards his drink, finishing off his soda, on purpose. “And if or when I go down, you don’t come and get me, don’t abandon the mission, you leave me behind and go on – otherwise you’ll end up dead and I’m sure, that isn’t what Trinity would want.” Two dead agents that was just what she needed on her tombstone.

She had left them; leaving the empty bottle behind and moved toward the boat she had tied up. She had given him some time, to think and swallow the information and when she returned – she had brought with her a vanilla folder where it was tossed on the broken table. Papers had slid out, a picture of a middle-aged man, with prominent Hispanic features. There was a name, short information of where the target was last seen and coordinates to Guam.

“When you’re ready, we’re leaving. Oh yeah and bring a really big can of bug spray – we’re dropping in aerial,” her fingers used small quote marks, suggestive, “uninvited.”

Up until the table had collapsed Elijah had thought he had everything under control. He had pretended to let his guard down, waiting for Sam to slip, to make even the slightest mistake indicating that she was out to kill him. No doubt in his mind, he would have unloaded his machine pistols on her without a second’s hesitation, destroying her where she sat. Elijah had taken enough lives that taking another was basically meaningless to him, the only thing he felt when he shot someone was the recoil from the firearms.

The barrel of a handgun to his throat, he listened to her words, remaining absolutely still. “Did you ever think maybe I wasn’t Sam?” Sweat began to show on his face, his heart beat rising. Elijah knew that any response, whether truth or lie, could get him shot on the spot, so he remained silent. How had this happened? He was too cocky, getting too close to her without any plans for a counter. Tens of thoughts raced through his mind, each a different plan or tactic for a possible escape, each ending in him with a nasty bullet hole in his head. She continued, “Come on, think Elijah, Trinity has a lot of enemies that are gunning for the elite or what – did you let your guard down because I have a pretty face?” Inside a part of him felt like it died, her words hit home. If there was an opportune moment where he might have had a chance of escaping that was it, while she was speaking.

Click! His life flashed before his eyes, only a few times had he felt this close to death, and neither of those times had it been at the hands of a woman. The magazine was empty. Elijah’s green eyes stared into her eyes as she put her gun away her back pants pocket. Sam was a dangerous threat, more dangerous than any partner he had been with before. Wiping some of the sweat from his face with a dirty hand, he kept a neutral expression and got a feeling he hadn’t had in ages. He felt like this one would survive.

Sam said she knew Walker, “I know stories of him and if you’re his son, then I’m assuming he wasn’t around long enough to teach you a thing about women.” His eyes trailed off, he had no comment. This Samantha Revlon, she was exploiting his weaknesses like it was going out of style. Elijah sighed. Still unspoken, he listened as she talked about how he was predictable, how partners need to stand on equal ground, and how the mission was the most important objective, meaning leaving behind the other if they would compromise the mission. He half listened to her words, having heard similar ones before. Not that he didn’t take the words to heart, but he was distracted as she finished off his bottle of Coca-Cola, he wanted that last drink.

Still silent, he watched as Sam made her way to the door to the outpost. Opening it, she took a step outside but before her foot could touch the ground, she felt a strong hand grab her wrist. Looking down his hairy arm, at her, he said in a serious tone, “Put your foot down if you want to lose that leg.” Holding his outdated cell phone in his hand, he punched in a password, a disarming signal. “I activated tens of small, pressure sensitive landmines that are scattered around outside, when you first arrived, in the event of a larger ambush.” Hesitant to put her foot down, Elijah showed her that it was now safe by walking around outside. Maybe he was less predictable than she made him out to be.

Awaiting her return to the outpost, Elijah thought more on what she had said while he gathered his important belongings. Having filled his pockets on his vest and cargo pants, he realized that he didn’t have many important belongings. His items worth taking along were: his Skorpions, a lot of .32 ACP ammunition, passports, cell phone, explosives, currency, food, and various other items of lessor importance. Nearly finished, he turned when he heard the door open, Sam returning with a folder and specific papers on the mission. Sam he let the folder spill its contents on the broken table, Elijah not sure why she didn’t hand it to him. He thought about it for a second then made an educated guess. She did not think to highly of him after she was able to pull her stunt, in addition to Elijah waiting until the last possible moment to disarm the mines. What was his excuse? He had legitimately forgotten that he had armed them.

Deciding to speak again, aside from the serious toned warning about the buried explosives, Elijah said in a more casual tone, “Everything appears to be in order.” Bending down on a knee he gathered the papers that had slid out of the white folder. They fit into the folder, not well, but they fit, as some had been folded or bent from sliding out of the folder and his handling. She saw that he looked at least somewhat ready, and said, “When you’re ready, we’re leaving. Oh yeah and bring a really big can of bug spray – we’re dropping in aerial.” Acknowledging her words with a nod he left the room and returned thirty seconds later with military grade DEET.

Returning the folder to Sam, because he thought she would keep it in better condition than he, Elijah stopped for a moment. “Sam, I’m sorry I did not live up to my required expectations. I have no excuse for my actions. You can be certain that next time I will not reenact the events that went down tonight.” Feeling better after coming up with an apology, something that he was not used to and was not easy for him to do, he walked not in front, not behind, but beside her to the boat.

The ride between the two had been silent for the duration of a few hours travel.

Having board an old clunker of a C-119, it was the only thing that was inconspicuous enough to get them aerial into the territory of Costa Rica. They didn’t have to travel too high to dip behind radar – as the connections had tied them to local authorities. Regardless it was just a small flex of Trinity’s power working underhand, but the thoughts crossed her mind as she sat in the boarding area of the plane.

Couldn’t they get something better? It looked as if it would never take off and by the jarring shakes, there were a few times when it stalled, with a jerking dip. It took some getting use to – but eventually the girl’s mind was on other things. Particularly her newest partner, Elijah, who seemed to cope well on the surface, as if he did this daily. He wasn’t still upset was he? Secretly plotting revenge or was it enough that he pulled out his biggest trick in wiring the island to a complete death trap? She couldn’t quiet her thoughts – which were a first, but then she chalked it up to air travel and the silent hum of the engines that blared outside.

She had definitely underestimated him, but the same could be said with her during their quick introduction. There had been a formal apology, one that she didn’t respond to if only because the better part of her didn’t know how to.

The alarm was sounding as the bottom hatchet opened and Sam stood, stepping forth as the under current of the wind threatened to suck out her small frame. Military combat boots came up to the small ankle, as a pair of light caramel colored legs remained exposed. A pair of black shorts stopped mid-thigh, as buckles overlapped the vest-shirt she wore and the Kevlar accessory underneath. The wind was ripping through the dark ponytail, strays of hairs pushed out of her face for the time being.

They had a two minute window before drop and as the seconds passed by – Sam had turned her gaze to him. She spoke, even if the wind and engine drowned out her voice – figuring he could at the very least read her lips, correctly. “Hey – if my parachute doesn’t open, you’ll come save me – right?” Those black marble hues looked toward his emeralds like one would toward a mentor, her trust there and an impish grin as well. She watched his gaze move up then and dove out first, the ground looking nothing more than a green blur. Plummeting fast and more so to be deliberate, she opened her parachute at the last possible minute before entering the rain forest.

The whirl of sound passed over her ears, eyes cast down as she slipped between a few branches before stopping short as her parachute got caught in a tree. Given how close all the trees were together – it would have been near impossible to touch down perfectly. She reached for her knife and began to saw through a few, taking a short fall. With her knees tucked under she braced herself, bending as she met the ground and rolling to lessen the sharp impact. A huff of air fell out of her and thereafter Sam began to pick herself up – looking around to see where he had landed.

When she met up, she motioned toward an old outpost – where two guards had strolled around. Crouched down, she looked toward Elijah and held out two fingers, one pointing at him and the other, then herself and the remaining guard. With two fingers walking, her hand made a circle motion in the air – halfway, and then another in the opposite direction and lastly, a sharp slid across her neck.

Grasping at the military grade knife she moved toward the other one, leaving Elijah to his kill. He was a robust man, middle aged and well-sized; easily outclassing her in every part of the word ‘strong.’ She had the advantaged and when he went to release himself, she had leaped on his back – blade wordlessly crossing over his throat. There was a slight strain, as her hand clasped tightly over his mouth, supported on his back. He sank to his knees and fell forward. With hands around his foot she began to drag him back, slow at first, before growing lazy and kicking him down the hill toward the outpost. His body rolled and landed with a smack, where a foot began to kick dirt over it to hide the body.

Dusting her hands off, she slipped inside the window – looking to see if it was unoccupied and when the cost was clear, her gaze went to the desk where a CD Radio and small black and white television was on. Removing some of her gear and boots she sat down, grabbing at the military DEET she had lifted off of Elijah and poured it her legs and arms. The humidity was unbearable and this was supposed to be one of the cooler days.

On board the airplane, Elijah sat silently, staring out of the window closest to him. He thought about the beginning of the flight, taking precautions to perform a check on the crew, then the vessel. Finding nothing suspicious, he normally would be at ease, but not today. There was a doubt in his mind, a doubt that he had when Sam caught him with a handgun to his chin. No, he wouldn't let this doubt be a thorn in his side any longer. Sam and him were going to be a good team, at least he hoped. Easing back in his chair and putting his knees against the seat in front of him, his eyes overlooked the beautiful landscape of Costa Rica outside. In doing so, he let his mind drift into nothingness.

A nudge on his shoulder woke him from his blank state. Sam was outfitted, wearing short shorts... Elijah brought his eyes up, meeting hers. "If looks could kill..." The smile leaving his face as he finished the fragmented sentence, he adjusted his position in his seat, then stood up to his feet. Bumping his head as he was not fully paying attention to his surroundings because Sam was standing right there. She seemed amused. Walking past her, he put on a parachute and was ready to drop. He wore the same clothes as before, his tactical vest and cargo pants, each with many filled pockets. An alarm sounded as the hatch opened, signaling two minutes until drop time.

Standing next to Sam, he looked out of the open hatch the air and felt no fear. An old practice for him, he had dropped more times than he could remember, a few of them with the parachute failing to open. Luck had been on his side, the lasndings being gentle enough to walk away from. Turning as he noticed her turning to him, she spoke, her words difficult to hear with the overpowering background noise. He made out her words as best he could. “Hey – if my parachute doesn’t open, you’ll come save me – right?” Elijah nodded and put his right hand on her shoulder. Speaking louder than normal, he said, "I'd cushion your fall with my own body if both our chutes failed." Not sure how much she heard, he looked forward and waited for the drop.

Freefalling down through the sky, Elijah was reminded of the adrenaline rush he got from skydiving. Reaching terminal velocity, he was only a short distance behind Samantha, who had dove first. Nearing the ground which was covered in a thick forest canopy, he saw no clear space to land. Concerned that Sam might wait too long, he tucked his arms against his sides, and his ankles together, becoming as aerodynamic as possible to close the distance between them. Suddenly she pulled her parachute cord, the fabric spreading out directly in Elijah's path. Extending an arm out, he navigated through the air to evade the expanding parachute, getting clear to release his own. Pulling his own cord, his parachute activated normally, much to his relief. Drifting away from Sam, he soon found himself tangled up near the top of a tree, hanging upside down.

Blood rushed to his head as he struggled to reach his knife. The tool was on his belt, secured in with a strap. Carefully undoing the strap he started to remove the knife... Bite! Teeth dug into his arm, the pain causing him to lose his focus. Elijah watched painfully as his knife plummeted down to the ground. Bite! Bite! Two more painful bites came from his arm. Tangled up in the lines which held the chute, he struggled to lift his neck and see his arm, what was biting him. Army ants. There were only three of them, but he saw a large mass coming on the branch his arm was touching, he had to get free. Desperate, he bit a line nearest him with his teeth, biting as hard as he could as more ants bit his arm. A battle of the teeth, a fight that he would lose in about ten seconds if he didn't get free.

Snap! Tumbling down to the ground with gravity, the branches he hit on the way down were hardly apparent. Face first on the ground, he was stunned but still conscious. Rolling around on the ground, slamming himself against trees, he romped around until all twenty of the ants had been knocked off or squished. Covered with blood, his right arm was looked worse than it was. Even thought the pain had been great, the ants jaws had not bit very deep, and the amount of blood lost was minimal.

On the move, he found Sam without much trouble. She looked at his arm, he responded, "I landed...in the wrong tree. I'll be okay." They moved forward, to an outpost with two guards on watch. They paced back and forth, making motions around the building. Signaling with her hands in a clear and concise way, he knew what his job was. He was to circle around and eliminate the guard opposite hers. Taking them out at the same time would be preferable but not necessary. Sam and Elijah split up.

Closing in on his target, he moved in any blind spots of the guard. Much of this movement involved him moving while a tree was in between a direct line of sight, hiding any movements he made from the guard. Thirty feet away, without the option of cover beyond where he was kneeling, Elijah paused and thought what was the best way to take the guard out. The light bulb lit in his hand when his fingertips felt a rock about the size of a tennis ball. Taking aim, he hurled the rock with deadly accuracy, striking the guard in the side of the head. Stumbling back, dazed, Elijah rushed forward and withdrew his knife, ready to dispatch the guard. As he was within range, he stopped his action as the guard fell backward. Elijah checked his pulse, the solid blow to the head from the rock had killed him. Scavenging whatever he could find in the man's pockets, Elijah lifted the man over his shoulders and hid him out of sight from the outpost behind the base of a tree.

Unlocking the front door was what appeared to be that guard. Elijah had realized that since he had killed the guard without roughing up the man's outfit or getting blood on it, he could wear it and pose as one of the guards. The size of the outfit was almost his size, only one size slimmer. In his disguise Elijah walked through the main hall and turned to the first door on his left. Holding a Heckler and Koch MP5A4 in his hands, one that he had taken from the guard, he pushed open the door quickly and swept through the room with the 9 millimeter sub-machine gun, ready to fire. It was Sam, she had climbed in through a window. Elijah called out as he saw her point a handgun towards him. "Don't shoot! It's me! Elijah!"

Relieved as she holstered her weapon, he could smell the DEET that she had applied. He imagined what pain it would be to apply it to his bitten arm. He showed off his new outfit, even thought it fit a bit snug. Unfortunately in did not have all the pockets his other one did, so he had to leave some items behind. As the pain from the bites had finally gone down, Elijah realized that he was sweating, a lot. The heat and humidity would make this adventure additionally challenging. "Two down, who knows how many to..." His voice trailed off as he heard the door that he had entered from begin to open. Motioning with his hand for Sam to hide, Elijah made sure his back was facing the door, as his face would easily be recognized as American.

"¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?" Deciphering the sentence his eyes shifted back and forth, looking for anything he could use as a reason why he was here an not at his post. A bottle of water was within his reach. Reaching for it he replied, as best he could, "Conseguir...una bebida." Taking the bottle he brought it to his lips and drank some. The warm water was not the best tasting and he noticed after he had taken it away from his mouth that it had backwash in it. Almost spitting up the water, he forced himself to swallow it. The man at the door said, "Usted ha tenido su agua, ahora volver al trabajo." Leaving the door, Elijah sighed, happy that his disguise had not been found out. Turning to Sam, who was coming out of hiding, he said, "We're in."

“Don’t shoot, it’s me. Elijah!”

The Bobcat .3032 was aimed at the man’s torso, preferably on a certain mark that would keep the individual from drawing their gun. Almost reluctantly she aimed it upward with the snap of her wrist, muscles eased along the forearm and shapely bicep as the weapon was holstered.

“Nice uniform, always loved a man in one. Except the terrorist kind,” she joked, light heartedly as he proudly showed off the attire. Her brow lifted, smile spreading across her lips briefly – fleeting, as she drew back to the mission at hand. The outpost wasn’t entirely clear just yet and as expected, the footsteps of an approaching threat closed in. Moving behind the door, she felt the floor weight shift – those first few moments tense as Elijah had talked his way out of it. The gun was aimed against the door and Sam judged by the sound of his voice where his head lay – one shot was all it would have took if things took a turn for the worse.

That is, if he hadn’t broken in the Rican accent – with a simple nod the man moved out of sight, leaving momentarily. Easing up once again she moved from out, crossing the room back toward the young protégé for a moment. “Let’s dig in; I think this is a good place to take camp.” Those raven eyes lifted to his, noticing the sweat and pointed back down towards her shorts. “Jealous?” Never waiting for a reply, her smirk was there, lightly, as she moved toward the stairs.

Once the place was secured and she returned toward Elijah to confirm it – she paused, briefly, drawing quiet. Pressing a hand to his shoulder, her fingers dug in, grasping at the material as a sharp, “Wait!” Left her – anxious. Pushing past him, Sam ran with more of a child-like sprint, into the room toward the left that held a window open. There she dove head first into a ham sack that swung high toward the left and rocked harshly to the right, but eventually braced the young woman’s weight. When it came to a slow halt, Sam turned her head toward the soldier, dark eyes slightly covered by the messy hairdo. Skin pressed into the dark hunter green bedding, giving it a quick whiff.

“I claim this room,” which meant he had the lucky option of the other two – one that held the smell of a dead carcass or a hard busted couch. Fixing herself onto her back, that leg hung over, feet not reaching the floor as the man who had set it up before her was slightly taller. Just the tip of her toe made it enough so she could swing herself – but that lip curled, her gaze falling off Elijah. Well it wasn’t her job to be serious all the time; she took her age into account, even if it didn’t put the other at ease. The mentality came off as nothing short of a small gun-game to her, but it helped pass the time: this mission was meant for the death of many, paid by the price of Trinity.

When he finally left the doorway, Sam had looked – eyes following after him as she listened to a few sounds. From what she could make of it – he was settling in and it took every steel trained iron will not to mock and grin. As some time had collectively passed – she moved from her room and back toward the main room where she found Elijah, collected at the desk. Most of the papers were organized there, a map pinned above him with red tactical points marked on it and the CD old-iron radio was on a low frequency. She pressed a hand to his shoulder, lifting and leaning over to get a closer look at all the weak points listed. A gentle, “not bad,” fell from her lips before her eyes came down to the red spot on the sleeve.

“You planning to take care of that or you just going to let it dry and scab over?” Her voice pinned him down, but she had no intention of hearing an answer – if anything, it was there to mock a part of that male pride. A short, ‘pfft, men,’ left her breath as she began to look around. When she found the small iron box aid kit, she hoisted it up and placed it over the paper work, the pencil snapping underneath it from its weight. Opening it – most of the items was picked bone dry, but the necessary ones were there. Such as gauze, application, liquor and a pair of tweezers, even if there was enough for one person – it would do. She wasn’t planning on getting into any injuries and figured later on they could stock up when one of them went into town. Along with clean water or hope for a drop-off of rations from Trinity.

“Come on, take your shirt off,” she spoke, pensively, taking a seat on the corner of the table. It was sturdy, built from wood that seemed to endure – and most importantly hadn’t suffered any rot. Placing her feet on his knee, she cupped her hands, elbows resting above her thighs as she supported her head and leaned in. “What? Don’t look at me like that – I’m trying to be nice here,” she wasn’t good with formal apologies and on the account of their earlier discussion – this was her, trying to make things right. Expressive as ever, when he finally consented – she did little to hid the obvious gape and even heckled him but managed to return to the task at hand.

“You don’t really have much luck…” She was talking an awful lot and even if it was small chitchat, she found herself completely immersed at the ragged bite marks the ants had left behind. The blood that seeped into the white cloth was tabbed along; its dark, murky red had lost its luster. One hand supported his elbow, small fingers clasping around it while the other held the tweezers, dabbing at it with alcohol. “Seriously, army ants? The one tree you land in…” She laughed briefly but apologized afterwards – it was rude, laughing at another’s misfortune. With a finishing wrapping, it looked a little clumsy, but would suffice.

“There, don’t say I never did anything for you.” Her gaze flickered, warmly as she looked at the papers she sat on and moved a leg up to pull it out from under and began to read. “So, Pablo Masco is our guy – some gun weapons dealer, guess he pissed off the wrong person to end up on a list. Such a small fry… I have a feeling he’ll be surrounded by tons of guards,” which would be a challenge, most cowards were.

Stacking the last, lifeless, hostile body in a large dog pile, Elijah returned to the ground floor of the outpost and confirmed with Sam that the location was now secure. There were only three living beings in the vicinity, one of which was a hostage who wasn't talking. Chained at the wrists, behind his back, wrapped multiple times in barbed wire, and in pain with both knees shattered, the unfortunate soul was secured to a one of the walls on the upper floor. There was no chance of escape.

On the ground floor, Sam eagerly claimed a room for herself, acting in a playful, carefree way. Honestly this frightened Elijah a little, the sheer unpredictability of her actions. Squinting his eyes, his bushy eyebrows lowered on his head, watching her from a short distance, still taking the sight in. He approached her and said, "I'll take the one across the hall." Motioning to the one with the hard busted couch.

Exhausted from the combination of securing the outpost and the overbearing heat, Elijah meandered toward the couch. Kicking his feet up on the arm rest he fell back on it and closed his eyes. Thoughts raced through his mind keeping him awake, much to his dismay. Realizing that he was not be going to sleep anytime soon, he sat up on the couch, still fully clothed, feeling to tired to even take his shirt off. Slowing walking over to a desk in the room where Sam had nearly sunk a bullet in his head, he pulled out the chair and sat down in it.

Looking over papers and maps he began to read through them and plot certain points within the area that would be the most likely locations for there target to be hiding out at. Sam had approached him, almost without his own acknowledgment, as he was tired and focused. She said, seemingly impressed by his work, "not bad." He conjured up a half-hearted smile, not really feeling in the best mood. "Thanks."

Sam's eyes left the papers and moved to his arm. “You planning to take care of that or you just going to let it dry and scab over?” Elijah looked up from the work, taking a moment to stop, then continued on back with it. Despite all his training, anything that involved with the medical area he found himself lacking. The skin, blood, muscle...he would rather avoid it than try and repair it, relying on it to heal on his own, as he was told that his immune system was unusually high. Even so he had, on more than one occasion, been repaired by an assigned partner, when the wound was too extreme to be left alone. The nineteen year old could still see their faces, each and every one, and the expressions they made in their last moments of life.

Unsure of how much time had passed as he was woken from the tangent his mind had went on, Sam said, "Come on, take your shirt off." Not feeling the energy earlier when he had tried to sleep on the couch, he remained motionless. "What? Don’t look at me like that – I’m trying to be nice here." Elijah felt new-found energy with her words, or maybe it was because her right hand was awfully close to her Bobcat. Unbuttoning the stolen outfit's top, his sweaty, muscled chest was uncovered as he let his shirt fall to the floor. Without clothing covering his arm, the dried blood and the bite marks could be seen more clearly, revealing just how gruesome the wounds were. Elijah didn't want to look at the damage, watching Sam instead.

Patching him up with care, he clenched his teeth at the discomfort he felt as she cleaned out the wound. Not much for words, he listened as she spoke to him. “You don’t really have much luck…” This was actually false most of the time, as Elijah had only survived this long due to luck, but when Sam had been assigned to be his partner, things had changed. Taking damage while she remained uninjured, was this how his other score of partners had felt when they were wounded and Elijah had pulled through unscathed?

“Seriously, army ants? The one tree you land in…” Losing his train of thought he nodded. The only reason he had landed in the tree he did was because he waited so long to pull his chute, because Sam had waited so long to pull hers. If she had pulled hers seconds earlier, he would most likely not be in this mess. But he knew that her safety was more important than his. Sam finished mending his wounds, his arm feeling a lot better. “There, don’t say I never did anything for you.” Elijah touched his arm, then her soft hand covered in his blood. "I owe you one Sam, thank you."

Shirtless, he nearly stood to his feet, eyes set on falling asleep on that couch, now that he felt better and the pain had significantly lessened. Sam stopped him, as she said, "So, Pablo Masco is our guy – some gun weapons dealer, guess he pissed off the wrong person to end up on a list. Such a small fry… I have a feeling he’ll be surrounded by tons of guards." He smiled at her small fry reference. "Don't worry, I'll bring the dipping sauce." Thanking her again, he walked over to the couch, laid down on it and was soon fast asleep.

Waking three hours later, feeling fully rested, he got up, still only wearing pants, and peeked into Sam's room. She was asleep, he smiled, how adorable she looked when she slept. Leaving the door to her room, he made his way upstairs and saw the hostage, who was not looking good. Parched throat, Elijah put himself directly in front of him. Questioning about the location of Masco, Elijah hit the man in the stomach in frustration as he wouldn't speak. Removing a knife from his pocket, he brought it to the man's side and slowly began to slice into it, very shallow. Continuing this for half an hour, Elijah finally extorted the information he was looking for. He said to himself, "Six and a half miles North East of here."

Slit! The hostage's throat was cut, Elijah putting him out of his misery. He wiped the blood from his blade and walked downstairs, waiting for Sam to awaken so they could journey to Masco.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring the dipping sauce,” he graced her with a line before heading toward the busted couch. It didn’t take more than a few minutes to watch the soldier crash, apparently as the lack of sleep and flight travel had caught up with him. For now, Sam left him to his rest – deciding against any practical pranks or jest that could come later in other, perhaps, less intense missions.

Shower or food, her mind was going back and forth between the two options. The weather was unforgiving and there was a small part of her that wanted nothing more than to take a dip in the rainwater while the other half wanted to chow down everything in sight. Giving into the latter of the two, she opted to wait until nightfall where the humid nights would provide cover, in case – any spare soldiers decided to visit camp. Leaving Elijah where he was, she moved to the outer outpost, traveling not too far out of sight as her search began. There was a small fireplace built, wood and an empty pan with four sticks in the ground. There remained a few fish and one that looked about ready. Reaching out toward it a sure word of, ‘Lucky’ had left her lips – before pulling it near. It was definitely what the locals labeled as ceviche, a form of trapper – Costa Rican no less and all the more appetizing.

Taking a few items back to the outpost with her, the young woman had settled on finishing the fish off – leaving nothing but the bone. Licking at her fingertips, her gaze went to the swollen mushrooms – that looked clean, diced and held the scent of fish oil on it. Some of it had been diced and cooked in the pan while others remained raw.

Leaving no evidence behind, in case Elijah frowned upon it, Sam polished off the sliced mushrooms – pegging them for nothing more than the kinds that are sautéed with fish. Otherwise, what was the purpose in having those nearby? With a bit of brandy left over, she washed the after taste out of her mouth and had managed to stay awake for another few hours, until the last minute – sleep and heat overwhelmed the girl’s ever warming body. It felt like hours had slid by without her knowing, but to the sound of a heavy ‘thump’ the girl was alert, momentarily jarred awake as her senses screamed at her to stand.

When those legs pulled her out from the hammock, she stood and felt the world twirl fast. Her vision blurred, doubling with ease and she set a hand to the wall to reassure that she wasn’t just about to go crashing face down to the floor. Was it the alcohol, the heat, a bug bite? Thousands of thoughts raced through her mind trying to call the sudden occurrence of illness, but came to short of nothing. With a hard, dry, thirsty swallow she pushed off the wall and walked, running into Elijah. She stumbled back and caught herself before he reached out to steady her – as that slick disgust slid along the pores of her skin. On the surface, she appeared mostly normal, with just a slight few degrees of heat to her body temp, but underneath – it was a hellfire.

None of which she wanted him to know about or very much look down upon – the one partner he got, had managed to get nothing more than a quick rainforest flu. Pushing it aside and momentarily forgetting about the mushrooms, her black hues looked to his, steadying on his face and finding some comfort in that charged alertness.

“I take it, he was a talker?” She perked and when the information was divulged – she set her sights on getting ready. They had some lead and it was best to bite while the information was still valid. Suiting up with some gear and a pistol, she followed after Elijah as the two had went on foot. As they set out, Sam had found herself managing to keep up into the duration for another good hour, but with a moment of lapse – she discovered she had followed him higher into the rainforest, along a long bottomless bridge that remained suspended in air. As the wind howled, it chilled the sweat against her neck, chest and cheeks that began to show a flush color.

Her footsteps that were so readily behind his had came to a halt and she placed a hand on the rope, looking over. It was a long way down, so long that it was hypnotizing and she watched as the colors in her peripheral changed, to odd blues, purples and intense greens. A hand cradled her stomach as dread and regret filled her features, half wanting to turn back and the other half that wanted to lean a little further. Go back and push through? A dry-hard swallow formed, knotting her throat, biting her bottom lip. She was ready to call to Elijah, but the strength in her voice and body was gone by then, caught between the whirl of a mental blockade. A soft whimper slipped and then – things took a hard, nasty jolt when it momentarily went pitch black. That body landed with a thump, arm dangling mercilessly over the bridge – features relaxing.

Leaving the outpost with Samantha, Elijah was oblivious to her sick condition. Swinging a machete with his right hand, he led the way and cleared any obstructions out of their path. Aside from lobbing off the heads of a few dangerous snakes, there wasn't much to tell. Forest that varied in density, sometimes clear enough to run through, other times too thick to move without the aid of his machete. Over uneven ground, through the varying forest, their average velocity was about three miles per hour, a fast walk, in the North East direction. Having traveled for an hour, it was now dawn, beams of sunlight had only begun to shine through the forest in a random, scattered pattern. A ray reflected off of his dull machete and temporarily blinded him, slowing to a stop. Grunting, he quickly regained his sight back, in awe at the sight before him.

A long, thin bridge, with no bottom in sight. It reminded him of a scene from a movie or fairytale. But this was real, this appeared to be the only way to the other side, which was...he removed his compass from a pocket and double checked it...directly in the North East direction. The land on each side, where the bridge was anchored, looked almost ninety degrees in slope, steep enough that there was no climbing up without addition aid. The bridge it was. Fearlessly taking the first step, he eased his weight onto the first wooden plank, hearing it creak under his weight. For a moment he thought it would break, but he found himself supported. Taking one step at a time, Elijah crossed the bridge, followed closely by Sam, until he had safely reached the other side. He glanced back over his shoulder, an accomplished look on his face. Immediately his expression turned to one of shock.

Rushing back over less than a quarter of the bridge, he reached down and grabbed Sam's unconscious body around the waist, pulling her up from half dangling over side of the bridge. Crack! Beneath his back foot, the board split in half, offsetting his balance, nearly sending both him and Sam over the safety ropes and off into the bottomless void below. Holding on for dear life, he regained his footing and moved as fast and carefully as he could, retracing his steps back to the side they were striving for. Safely making it to the end of the bridge, he set her down on the ground and inhaled and exhaled multiple times.

Returning to the situation at hand, he tried to nudge her awake, but she did not awaken. Feeling her forehead he could feel a temperature, she was sick, and needed medical attention. "Please be alright..." Knowing next to nothing about medical practices, he picked her up and carried her in both arms. Continuing North East toward his objective, many thoughts rushed through his mind, he was torn between completing the mission and saving Sam. Could he do both? Everyone had always told him to leave anyone behind that would compromise the mission...he made a decision...not this time, he was done going by the book. Speaking out loud he said to the empty rain forest, "Trinity, Walker is walking his own path this time."

Pushing on through the forest, an hour later, he was within sight of his objective. It was a large, secure building, crawling with guards, just like Sam had said. This was going to be a challenge, especially if he had to do it on his own. He wasn't going to do it on his own this time, Sam was going to go with him. Sweat poured down his face, as the morning heat rose. Taking the fortress would have to wait, he needed to find a doctor. But where to look? Stopping, he sat down, letting Sam's head rest on him. Breathing, she still had a temperature and was not waking up. Not able to take no for an answer, he looked around, out of ideas, for once. What he didn't see, was right before him. Green eyes lighting up, he remembered the specific topography landmark that was before him. It was a mountainous piece of land, perhaps a volcano. It was North East of his position and what was so important about it was that a village was on the other side of it.

Hefting Sam up again, he held her in his arms and walked to his new destination, until his legs would walk no more. Close to the village, he left Sam hidden in thick bushes, just outside the city, as carrying her would draw much attention to himself. Making sure she wouldn't escape, he put a chain and lock around one of her arms, secured around the base of the tree, in the event she woke and wandered off. Dressed in the Costa Rican uniform, Elijah would blend right in, that is, except for his face. Not having a hat, he tore a piece of black cloth from his undershirt and wrapped it around his head like a bandanna. Some dirt on his face and he would easily be overlooked.

Wandering around in the village for ten minutes, he located the doctor after questioning a few individuals. Waiting until he was unoccupied, Elijah walked in and pointed a Skorpion to the man's head. "Ven conmigo si quieres vivir. Una chica está en problemas, ella está enferma y necesita atención médica." Taking up Elijah's persuasive offer, the doctor slipped out of the back of the medical building and disappeared from the village.

Returning to the place he had left Sam, Elijah found her in the same condition. Unfastening her chains, he commanded the doctor at gunpoint to see what was wrong with her. After a few minutes examination, he told Elijah that she was dehydrated and had most likely eaten something that upset her stomach. Machine pistol drawn, he almost shot the doctor then and there. Why did he need to go out of his way when she was only dehydrated? Elijah thanked the doctor and proceeded to tie him up. There was no way he was letting the man go, in case he communicated a message to Masco. Chained around the same tree Sam had been, the man would be able to get free once he could reach the keys. Currently the keys were out of reach, tied to a short piece of string which, in turn, was tied to an overhead branch. A small pocket mirror, used to view when applying makeup, was taken from Sam, and positioned so that when the sun's rays hit the mirror at the right angle, the sunlight would burn through the string and the keys would drop to the ground, within his reach. The time would come in about five hours.

Carrying Sam in his arms, he brought her too a cold, fresh water spring and cupped his hands to gather water in them. Dropping a few water droplets on her closed eyes, she cracked her eyes open slightly, conscious. Giving her water from his cupped hands, she began to look more alive and her temperature had declined. "I'm not going to lose you." Smiling, he drank some water himself, then, seeing as she did not look ready to walk, carried her once again and made his way East, to the highly secure fortress. They would arrive at dusk.

The darkness that followed didn’t offer an ounce of relief.

Blurred nightmares visited Samantha, each with the haunted but empty faces of her past kills. They tormented her, the clicks of a M4A1 echoed in the distance; the full automatic spray sent a numbing sensation through her skull. Taunts, voices all rushing to speak at the same time – the click and load of a M203. grenade .40mm in size hit with impact of a five mile radius, the scenes blurring to one large movie and then consciousness.

Momentarily –

Those eyes parted, feeling the cool earth and scent of dirt assault her senses. Her body felt heavy, legs clamped together as she was rested on her side. A short groan left her through as she moved her head upward, dragging a bit of dirt against her cheek and temple, muttering a word of importance. “Elijah…?” There was no answer and she sighed, not having the energy to call out louder – stronger; her trained soldier no where to be found. Perhaps he left her behind and with good cause – there wasn’t any solid reason to continue to drag around a useless corpse. The weather was unforgiving and with the unflinching rays of the sun beating down on her, she had shut her eyes for a moments rest, allowing the darkness to swallow her.

Voices followed, close – but distant enough to not follow the pattern. It sounded like the Walker’s kid, where her thought case spiraled downward. By this time her state was dreamless, void – and with the relishing feeling of a few drops, Sam had stirred and peered open her eyes to see a rugged, tired expression of the juvenile agent. Apart of her tried to judge the situation, but when the cool water collected at her lips, she drank it.

“Taste like gun powder..” She grinned weakly and managed to get a few more drinks for herself. When he went to reach for her once more, the young woman nearly balked – a hand pressed against that solid chest to stop him. “Woah there tiger, I’m fine now…” Her legs curled under her, rising to stand with him and for a moment things appeared to be fine. “See? I’m okaaa~aay!” Her legs buckled and she managed to grasp the upper part of her shirt, finding a hand secure her at the waistline. Her expression flat-lined, not wanting to admit he was right in all of his reactions, but rather looked away – pride briefly wounded. For the remaining part of the walk, Sam had agreed briefly to a piggyback ride if only because it was easier for her to swallow.

The brunette was a bit higher on his back, enough to rest her chin over his shoulder as a pair of length legs remained at the lean torso. An arm had looped loosely around his neck and the other across the span of his chest, falling limp – as those hues watched and studied the side of his features. He still had a few years to grow, even if his gaze was ahead of most kids with a mind-set mentality, the jaw line was strong, but not thick – just all around youthful. “You know,” she began, cautious of her voice as the brunette was closer to his ear. “You could have left me behind, no one would have thought badly about you…” Her voice trailed, cheek planting along the curve in his shoulder as the long hair fell arms length from the ponytail. The pace had continued, as the smell of earth and rainforest began to grow more prominent – they were off the main trail, which meant the hike was more severe, but still Elijah persisted – almost as if it was second nature for himself. He was a worthy advisory, she’d give him that.

“Unless, you were thinking about a just reward for your heroic actions, hmm?” A cheeky grin slid lightly across her features – tempted to find out where his thoughts lay with a dame on his back. “Perhaps you want half my earnings off this mission?” Sam pressed, deciding where his weakness laid money, gifts or other things of interest. Aside from the mission, his personality was still a foreign concept to her. “Or maybe,” she drew that lifeless arm up the broad of his chest, along the collarbones and neck with a light grasp – her small thumb rolled across the presence of his adams apple. Watching him tense out of instinct, fingers digging into her legs in suspense as every alarm in his body went off to defend. Somehow, he managed to resist throwing her off or taking any counter measures. “A kiss?” Sam finished, with a deliberate poke to the flesh of his cheek – feeling that body ease beneath hers.

That mouth of his began to open in a reply, but she clasped a hand over it tightly, terse. Her gaze stayed steady, her heartbeat increasing. There were two, watching them and only now she had realized they hadn’t had the fortunate luck of being spotted. With a quick maneuver – she pulled away; kneeling down behind a tree as her pistol was drawn, clasping the knife with the same hand. Her gaze went to Elijah who was shoulder up against the tree, sideways – to diminish his frame as he peered over sideways.

There was a slight discussion between the two soldiers and then, like that they were heading back toward the Spanish-villa. Instantly she breathed, relief swimming over her – if they fired off any shots this early; they’d be screwed in trying to break into a fortified building. “It’s better if we wait until night-fall that will give us some cover.” Plus, with an arm wrapped over her stomach, she figured by then the toxins would be out of her system. As more daylight was loss, they had decided to circle around in the back, finding security was lax – sleeping. It made getting past a few soldiers easier and into the slick mansion fortress.

With the lights on, Sam had motioned to hit the breaker. The villa was huge, with security cameras in every corner of the room – which led her to deduce that there was a compromising security room. She opted to split up, one so he could set up when the lights went dark and two – so she could work her way in and shut down all surveillance. It took some slight pacification to get Elijah to consent, but after the initial parting – Sam had ventured along her way. Staying to the corners and out of sight, passing between one window to the next until she found a guard dosing off in front of the door. It was a long stretch, no cover and one camera pointed at her. When it began to turn to look away, she ran, sprinting, the sound of her footsteps alerted him just in time to catch the knife in his heart, throwing the body to the floor.

“Que dijo?” A voice questioned behind the security doors and she pressed up against the side, leaving the knife embedded in the body. The face had poked out first, but found the Bobcat pressed under his chin. He was silent and she motioned, pushing herself back into the room with him. When he judged the situation, he grasped her wrist and she fired a silenced round into his temple. Those dark hues went over the scene before her, typing quickly as she unsuccessfully failed to hack the device. “They made this look so easy in training…” Each password sent her a red flag and once she was irritated, she moved, picking up the small AK7u and lit a spread of bullets across the towers and screens – where an alarm had blared and power had shut. Everything went black and voices filled the mansion.

“Your turn, Walker, better show ‘em what your name is worth,” she mouthed and looked over her shoulder, deciding to move to catch up with him. The sound of gun-fire was going on and judging by the sound of it, things were already heavy.

Navigating through the forest, Elijah moved swiftly in his military boots, as swiftly as he could outfitted with gear and weaponry, in addition to Samantha catching a piggyback ride on his back. One of her arms was around his neck, and both her legs were around his torso. Despite quick, sharp jerks and movements along the path, he was able to keep his body as if it was fluid, giving her maximum comfort as he continued his trek. Controlled breathing was key here, without it, he could easily over exhaust himself and lose precious time. In his path, a large, rotten log lay, more than three feet in diameter. He had the option of slowing down, crossing it safely and easily, but feared that if he would lose his momentum. Feeling fatigued, he ignored his body's signs and cleared the log, landing with solid footing on the other side and continued running.

While he tore through the open forest, the unmaintained trail he was on vanished, not making any difference to him. Running on empty, his internal fuel tank began to fill up as Sam spoke to him. He listened intently but did not respond, breathing heavily and not wanting to expend any more energy by speaking. Her words cut deep, words telling him that he could have left her behind. An option that he could have and had taken before in the past, many of which he had came to regret. Speaking of a reward, she touched on a subject that he cared about a while ago...but not anymore. In the past years, the commando had learned there was more to life than money, a greater purpose worth striving for. For him, it was to protect and serve, by means of killing every threat in sight. Half of her money for completing the mission was not appealing to him.

However, when she lifted her dangling arm up, sliding across his chest, and touching his adams apple, he was caught off guard. Tensing up he nearly fell into a practice which was now instinct to him, disarming a knife (her thumb) at his throat. Controlling his actions, he nearly lost his balance on the path in front of him, stumbling once but regaining his composure. His partner spoke, following up her action, "A kiss?" Dirty, sweaty, and tired, Elijah was about to respond when she clasped her hand over his mouth. Two soldiers, dead ahead.

Halting his forward motion, he felt Sam let go of her hold around his neck and hid herself behind a tree, kneeling down. Standing upright, also hidden by a tree, Elijah held his Skorpions at the ready. As they neared, he could here then speaking, understanding most of their words. To his surprise they were exchanging casual talk, a sign that meant they were unaware of him and Sam, or they were acting out the part, in an attempt to catch them off guard. The calmness in there voice, it was not possible for the latter to be true. His prediction that they were unseen was confirmed when the two left, continuing their sweep. Safe to talk, she said, “It’s better if we wait until night-fall that will give us some cover.” The first words out of his mouth were still dwelling on the past minute or so. "Were you serious about that kiss?" Seeing that she was not interested in answering the question at the time being, he responded to her last statement, nodding his head. "Night-fall is the best option. We can conceal ourselves better and give the illusion that we come in greater numbers." Holstering his Skorps, he was ready to go.

Taking the back entrance, as sleeping soldiers are not much of a threat, Elijah made sure they stayed asleep. Giving each one some powder via their mouths, the drug would keep them under for at least eight hours, even admist heavy gunfire and explosions. Inside, Sam had convinced Elijah to split up, that she would disable the lights and cameras that covered the compound. He had worked so hard on getting her here, he did not just want to let her out of his sight. Then again, it was hard to argue with a woman that persuasive. Spying a few rugged Jeeps, Land Rovers, and Hummers, he approached the vehicles, staying out of sight.

Five minutes later, an alarm sounded, rallying the whole compound. Concerned for her safety, he felt a sense of relief as everything went pitch black. Hands gripped around the wooden stock of a .308 M14, a strong recoil fully automatic rifle he had lifted from one of the snoozing soldiers, Elijah looked through a special optic sight he had attached a few minutes earlier. An infrared scope. Lying prone next to a wall, away from the vehicles, he was scoped in on a doorway. Bang! Bang! Bang! Semi automatic shots missed their targets rarely, dropping them like flies. To ensure her safety from being friendly fired, he had placed a special device in one of her pockets, a device that contained a white hot heat source, easily recognizable with his scope. The device was safely encased in a protective casing of glass that would only let minimal heat through to her clothing, and would not produce light to give away her position. Changing the magazine on the rifle, he continued to fire shots, taking out a handful more of soldiers.

Whoosh! A bullet whizzed past his head and a bright light compromised his position, shining in his eyes. Thud! Taking a bullet to his shoulder, he rolled over in pain, scrambling to get away from the light. In hot pursuit after him, three soldiers were running full speed, AK-74's at the ready. Bleeding, he couldn't think about his wound, there were bigger problems at hand. Elijah was trapped in a corner and when the three soldiers rounded it, his chances of survival were next to nothing. The nineteen year old held his rifle down and smiled.

Screams that pierced the darkness echoed out, as the three soldiers clutched their necks in pain, blood spurting from their jugular veins. While he had been waiting, Elijah had set up a few lines of razor wire between the building and the walls, securing both sides with sharp, long steaks. How he had pounded them in quietly was a mystery. Taking Sam's height into account, he had placed them an inch above her standing height, so she could run around freely while the soldiers, most of them taller, would suffer painful injuries or deaths. A thought occurred to him, what if her hair got caught in the razor wire? Elijah convinced himself that it wouldn't happen...but in case it did, he knew she would surely kill him.

Peeking out from the corner, sighted in with his infrared scope, he turned to the left and caught sight of some glowing white bodies, entering the vehicles a hundred yards off. These were the same ones he had visited five minutes earlier. Holding a small remote in his hand, Elijah said, "Your loss for driving without insurance." He pressed the button. Kaboom! Simultaneously, all the vehicles exploded, having small plastic explosives placed on them prior by yours truly. After the air cleared from the cloud of smoke, Elijah finished securing the outside. Finding Sam's signature, glowing extra hot in his scope, he was overjoyed to see she was alright. Waiting until she was close, remembering that he was still bleeding from his shoulder, he called out to her, "Revlon! Over here!"

BOOM. The lights went out with a bang, the hum of the generator began to wind down as the coils discharged – thunk, thunk, thunk, each hallway light chased after the other and in less than thirty seconds – the villa was pitch black. She had two minutes – tops, before the back-up generators would kick in which gave the young woman enough time to meander about.

“Adale pues! Tu quetro chico is, auuugh!” Words were silenced, cut short by the hard and bony fist that slammed into the throat of the individual. At the hip the AK47u clip was emptied – shots sprayed with slapping effects against broad chest. When there shoulders shook, the low-light from the midnight sky managed to flash just enough to view the death approach the faces; for some it came quickly, others weren’t so lucky. Not having enough time to see to it that they died mercifully, Samantha moved quickly, her long legs carried that frame just out of sight, pushing up against the closet of the bedroom. With fluid, expertise movements – she unloaded the empty clip, abandoning it without concern and reloaded, fingers sliding the chamber with a rolling click effect. The emotions on her face were flat-lined, her heartbeat steady, senses alert, but not nearly ready enough to predict what would come next.

Warm heat had struck the back of her head, knocking that gun and body to the floor. Instinctively she rolled aside, just missing a heavy foot that came down swiftly – not having the time to cry and complain. With a few more rolls she threw her weight back, landing on the balls of her feet and her hands ready as a knife enclosed fist came at her. The swish nicked the side of her neck but in another moment she was throwing her weight at the body, realizing then in was Pablo’s woman.

She wasn’t very tall in comparison to Samantha, maybe a foot shorter, but the physique of the woman was tanned, fit and a blonde with Hispanic features and green eyes; contacts, Sam deduced. The woman was slightly busty; a white tank-top fell just shy above the navel and a pair of matching underwear was all she wore. A few cuts had nicked her knees and a tribal tattoo adorned the inner thigh of the blonde.

“Donde esta su marido?” Samantha questioned, eyes narrowing on the harpy. It wasn’t as if she didn’t pose enough danger, but she wasn’t about to waste the beauty of one woman for another man. Sexist at it finest. Those full lips turned into a grin when the loyalty was expressed, a few swear words tossed in the form of calling Sam a ‘harlot’ and then, a fist that surprisingly made contact with the Sam’s stomach. Recoiling a bit, Revlon gained her ground and threw head first at the blonde, nearly knocking her unconscious – but when the visitors had reached the two females, Sam wasn’t prepared for the grenade that fell to the floor. Instinctively she moved out of the way, turning her head as instead a ‘flashbang’ had went off. The blinding light only lasted for a few seconds, the compression from the grenade nearly rendering her senses dull. It left Samantha to see the window broken and the femme fatale no where to be seen.

Cursing, she didn’t have time to go after her – she wasn’t the target, only the weapons trader was. And by the sound of the rapid gunfire, Sam knew that Elijah couldn’t stay outside too long. Picking up her bobcat, she ran, gun drawn down the front as she fired careful shots at those whose backs were too her. The sound of the explosion shook the house, knocking her momentarily against the wall, knees scrapping the ground – where again, she picked herself up. She was really going to feel it tomorrow.

“Revlon, over here!” A voice that was deciphered as friend – was found to be Elijah – cuddled to the corner, clinging with the shadows and behind a few crates. She moved, slightly, with a mild-jog that slowed to a halt as her gaze surrounded the outside devastation. Pieces of debris remained on fire, lit from the explosive and human remains lingered with a mild groan from two survivors. They took interest and out of no show of emotion, she gave Elijah a sharp, “Hold on,” before walking toward the destroyed cars. Three bodies lay, with one who took the hardest blow, completely halved by the impact. The other two were alive, if barely and Pablo – out of them all there. She had put a bullet through the back of the merc’s head and took her heel to the target’s stomach. He groaned and rolled on his back, firing a round from a small pistol that hit her chest. A high whimper slipped out and with the same quick-motion, she put two in for good measure, at the target.

“Kill confirmed…” Her voice was soft and she placed a hand over her face, feeling that April heat from Costa Rica beginning to grow strong. Turning, the girl moved back toward Elijah to see him slumped against a wall and slightly surprised. “Kevlar vest – I tend to wear one since I fight up close,” her small fist jabbed at his jaw lightly, closing it. “I’d carry you but I don’t think that’d work out well for the both of us…” Trailing off in thought, the brunette motioned with her head in a ‘come here’ effect. Grabbing at his hand, she pushed it toward his wound, watching him grit and wince. “Keep pressure on it – the less you bleed out, the less likely you’ll pass out. And you wouldn’t want that,” like a switch that flat-line emotion began to liven, those blackened pearl hues lifted up looking at him with a deliberate flirtatious smile. “Pass out around me and there’s no guarantee that I won’t sell your organs to the black market, I hear they go for quite a good price around here,” she joked, mildly, poking at his left kidney. “Perhaps you won’t need this one.” With a pause, she continued and led them back toward the house where the lighting was out and a soul didn’t remain standing. It was more obvious that with the payee dead – those gun for hires weren’t tied through loyalty and didn’t plan to stick around, not having the slightest revenge.

When they had reached the bathroom, she pointed toward the pearl tub that had taken the least amount of damage as she began to rummage through the dark. With some luck she found a candle and his flare that sparked and lit the room. The med-kit was tossed into the sink, clanks of silvery and items hit the marble where, Samantha focused her attention on. They were in luck – this place, being a home held a lot of items with appendages, medical aid and ointment as well as the works. Glancing back toward her counterpart, she noticed as he began to doze off, in a slight dull appreciation. “Hey,” her voice gave a sharp taut tone, catching his attention reflexively. “Here, put this under your tongue, it should numb the pain,” she handed him a bottle but the inscription of the medication was in Spanish – reading more along the lines of pain killers.

“Oh God, this heat…” Complaining solely to herself, she returned to his side, scissors running without a word against his shirt – the shoulder part, removing the material that was in way of the wound. The bullet was lodged and hadn’t made a clean pass, which meant – Sam was in for some searching. Close enough to feel his breath steady, she inserted the small clamp into the wound, not far enough to touch or break muscle and began a blind, but efficient search for the bullet. One hand braced his shoulder while the other used the tool necessary and with less than two minutes, she had uttered a word, “There…” Pensively, her gaze looked toward his lighter green ones, eyebrow perking. “Hold still,” not that he much of a choice – she utensil was extracted, bullet casing following to the floor with a clank. Cleaning around the wound, she dabbed a bit of antiseptic and began to patch it up, with less than a graceful wrapping.

“Well, I never did ace the wrappings; guess that’s why I couldn’t become those Christmas box decorators…” Sore, tired, sweaty and dirty, the young pulled away and stretched, hands placed on the small of her back as she pushed her hips forward feeling a few cracks.

“I tell you, the next job we get; I hope it’s in the states. All this guerilla warfare is gonna kill me,” she joked and then paused, looking back to her predecessor. “Guess that’s bad luck to say, huh?” She knew of his dead-partner rap sheet and was only slow on the process that her jokes were less than out of line.

“Well, don’t just sit there; you can sleep on the way back. We have…” She threw her wrist out in front of her, glancing at the clock, “Three hours to get back to our drop-off and catch a plan out of here before we’re assumed dead. I saw some quads in the back, so let’s borrow one and get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I could use a nice, hot bath,” stretching she walked out and rounded the corner, where they had left the villa. When they were just out of range, a small detonation went off; the impact hit the trees and sent a forced wind against their backs. With nothing left, they boarded the plane and was near home-free, minus the hiccup of a horrible-jarring plane ride. Seated, with dirt on her face, those dark hues watching the other as he began to nod off, thinking quietly to herself.

Leaving Costa Rica, 0400

Breaking the quiet after the storm, four pistol rounds were fired off in quick succession. Able to distinguish between the different rounds based on caliber, quality of ammunition, and barrel length, Elijah could tell that only three were from Sam's handgun, which meant... "Oh no!" Feeling weak from loss of blood from his shoulder wound, he tried to stand to his feet. With his balance compromised, he weakly steadied himself using the M14 as a cane. To his relief, Sam made her return to his position, unwounded. Not wanting her to see his weakness, he dropped the M14, standing unaided for a few seconds...then falling back against the wall behind him. With pain, the partially clotted wound re-opened.

The Kevlar vest she wore had protected her from the bullet, unlike his. Pablo was dead, it was over. They had accomplished the mission, he had a thought that she could leave him behind, because he would slow her down. The hardened killer looked at his green eyes and said, “I’d carry you but I don’t think that’d work out well for the both of us…” Her words reminded him of switched roles, how he had been the one uninjured, leaving his injured partner behind. "I need to lay off of the snacks." Sam was different, she was sticking around, concerned for his condition. Guiding his hand to his shoulder and pressing on it, she said, “Keep pressure on it – the less you bleed out, the less likely you’ll pass out. And you wouldn’t want that.” Elijah nodded, feeling down for not taking the action himself. Lifting his spirits, Sam followed up her statement with a joke. He thought her jokes were funny but always felt like they had some truth to them, which made him now hesitant to pass out around her.

Warm blood against his left hand, decreasing the bleeding significantly, Elijah went inside the fortress with Sam's help. He held onto her hand with his right one, cold as ice, from lack of circulation, her warm hand giving life to his. Inside, she led him to a bathroom, which had a tub that was still in one piece, more or less. While she gathered necessary medical items, he sat there, feeling useless. Sure he could plan an attack and put out results, but when he was injured with a potentially life threatening wound, his world fell apart. Relaxing back in the tub, he closed his eyes, imagining relaxing in a hot bath... "Hey." Snapping out of his day dream, he looked to her. "Here, put this under your tongue, it should numb the pain." Drugs, Elijah had tried to stay away from them, but he knew it was for the best and took some.

Painkiller kicking in faster than he expected, she operated on him, removing the bullet lodged in his muscle and cleaned up the wound. Unmoving he observed her concentration on the task at hand, her willingness to operate on him, it must have been a drag. Feeling only a little pain here and there during the procedure, she was now wrapping the exposed area. Judging her own work, she said, “Well, I never did ace the wrappings; guess that’s why I couldn’t become those Christmas box decorators…” Elijah complimented her, "Looks like a fine wrapping to me." Pausing for a moment, "It isn't the wrapping you know, but what's inside that counts." He couldn't see the expression on her face as she turned at the very moment he finished speaking.

Shifting gears, she said, "I tell you, the next job we get; I hope it’s in the states. All this guerilla warfare is gonna kill me." Elijah had a neutral expression on his face, guerilla warfare was his life. "Guess that’s bad luck to say, huh?" Elijah put out a smile, putting more emphasis than he planned. "Only if words become reality." Had unlucky situations been the cause of his partners deaths? He wouldn't believe so, there were mistakes that went down. To him, luck did not exist, there was the known and the unknown. Venturing out into the unknown could have, unexpected consequences.

"Well, don’t just sit there; you can sleep on the way back. We have…" Elijah took action, steadying himself on the edge of the tub. Standing to his feet, knees wobbling, he almost fell but Sam was there to hold his hand, to be his crutch. She looked at the time, "Three hours to get back to our drop-off and catch a plan out of here before we’re assumed dead. I saw some quads in the back, so let’s borrow one and get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I could use a nice, hot bath." Three hours, it wound be enough time, given the quads function decently. As if she had read his mind, he replied, "Funny I was imagining a hot bath when you were patching me up..." He stopped as he realized by the look on her face that she appeared to think he meant for two. "Uh, I meant..." Stumbling with what to say, he did what was best in difficult situations, change the subject. "I'll wait outside while your drive the quad up here."

Roaring through the jungle landscape with Sam at the handle bars, he held on to her for dear life. With each dip or bump feeling that much closer to getting bucked off of the four wheeler. Minutes earlier, as they were just leaving the fortress, Sam had detonated some explosives to discourage anyone from cleaning up the place. Back on the trails, their destination was in sight, arriving with only five minutes to spare. Sputtering as Sam decelerated the off road transport, the engine died as the last ounce of fuel was used up. Unmoving, Elijah still had his arms wrapped around her, it wasn't until she told him that they were here he let go. "Sorry, I did not realize that we stopped."

When the plane touched down, Sam helped him to the loading stairs. Elijah said in a humorous tone to the escort, "I'm her carry on." Truly he was thankful that she had put up with him, helped him through his pain and brought him here, were he would make a full recovery and be ready to go at it again. On the airplane, the ride had encounter some turbulence, which was hardly apparent to Elijah. Tired, he let himself go to sleep, forgetting about what Sam had said earlier about what she might do when he was asleep or unconscious.

Waking up in an empty, clean room, he looked around, with his head unmoving. Light peeked in through closed blinds, casting strips of light onto the opposite wall. There were two comfortable beds, one of which he was resting on. There were four pillows at the head of the bed, one of which he was resting on. Instinctively, he reached underneath his pillow with his right hand and didn't find his Skorpions. Instead there was a small piece of paper, folded twice. Removing it, he looked it over then slowly opened it. It held a message that he assumed was from Sam, as the letters were clear, consistent, and the i's were dotted with hearts. The message told him that they were on their next mission, in the states, and that he had been out since Monday. Feeling a phone in his pants pocket, he realized that he wasn't wearing those pants when he dozed off on the plane. Elijah ran his hand along his face, realizing he was cleaned up, and his wound was re-wrapped, feeling better. Checking the phone for the date and time, he saw that it was Thursday, 9:00 am. Standing to his feet, which he now could do without trouble, Elijah saw that this was a hotel room. Brushing the blinds aside with a finger, he looked out, unsure of the city he was in.

The boy was out like a light, eyes closed, head slightly to the side – a few pats on the cheek were attempted, but when Elijah didn’t even stir – Samantha didn’t bother. Instead the two co-pilots retrieved his unconscious form, carting him off their plane as the drop off consisted of a new location. They were in the skirts of Thailand and fortunately the American pilot had gone further, helping to lug the body of her partner to the hotel. Elijah wasn’t heavy in the sense of his weight, but his male form was denser than a woman’s – not to mention, the boy was dead weight, currently.

“Put him over there,” she pointed as the pilot all but dropped Elijah like rocks and turned quickly to look at Sam. His eyes were on her – scouting over the messy hair-do and long sculpted legs. Feeling his presence linger, she paused, watching as the older man grinned and approached her.

“So how about we… Grab a drink? You know your pal isn’t waking anytime soon,” he voiced and Sam gave him a once over – noting he was dully in his mid-thirties, not bad for a looker, but clearly green with envy that she wasn’t his co-pilot or partner in standing.

“You know I’m only seventeen,” she tossed aside, dipping her age just under the legal barrier and played hesitant.

“And this is Bangkok,” he had a full on gracious grin, blonde eyebrow perking with interest. The loaded Bobcat 3032 was clicked, chambers rolling with a snap effect as he stared down the barrel of it. “Haha… Fiesty,” his laughter was nervous and he backed off – for the time being, but not without exiting out the door and a motion to his hand ‘call me.’ Rolling her eyes, Samantha had approached the door, locking it – in case the pilot got any brave ideas and turned back toward Elijah. He seemed peaceful there and she – still craving that shower, decided to clean up before attending the other.

Hot water, enough to scald had struck her face as she all but sighed – the curves in her listless frame rested up against the wall – in thought. The palm of her hand slid with a bar of soap, over her shoulder, neck until she rolled the citrus bar between her hands. Blood, dirt and sweat were washed away as the water drained dark at first before running clear. The loud rushing water from the shower filled her head, drowning her senses and it was then – alone, that the emotions began to hammer down. Tears, trickled down, washed away by the hot water and when a sob slipped, she clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound – eyes glancing to the door. Not wanting to be seen in such a vulnerable state, she smothered it until the feelings had passed and the water began to run cold. Exiting an unstable foot stepped out and she grabbed a cotton orange towel, wrapping it around her nude frame before stepping back outside. Her damp hair was over one shoulder, sitting on the mattress beside his sleeping form.

“Elijah, you awake…?” She questioned, curiously – in case the boy had woken and just was only pretending. Poking at the side of his cheek, she paused, waiting for a hand to grab and his senses to rise to counter – but when he hadn’t and remained unflinching, she had gently placed her knuckles against his face, caressing it unintentionally. It was slightly rough, but warm with flesh-like stubble that had grown over the duration of the mission.

Realizing then he wasn’t awake, she talked freely as it brought her some comfort to speak – even if the other currently wasn’t listening. “I had a brother…He’d be about your age right about now,” she stopped feeling silly, but began again as if the thought never crossed her mind. “He looked up to the record your father set; he was strong, but eager… “ Pulling back, she scooted to the floor – as the bed sat low and rested her back against the edge of the mattress, staring at the ceiling. “Other girls my age are probably worried about what dress to wear for their prom. Me? I’m talking to an unconscious guy, God – either I’m pathetic or going crazy.” She laughed, pitifully at herself and then moved to go change. There were spare clothes that were left in the hotel – by former agents and she lucked out in finding something smaller in her size. It was a pair of leggings and a rust-colored sleeveless tank that scrunched at the chest and fell loosely. Falling to the spare bed, with one leg hanging off – she rested on her back, as sleep came in a crashing effect. Sam had managed to get a few hours rest when the housekeeper had accidentally came in and woke her – with a soft apology, the Taiwanese beauty began to depart, but she got the woman by the wrist.

“Are you interested in earning some extra money?” Her accent was slightly off but the message was clear enough for the hotel keeper to nod and Sam had judged the girl to be in her early pre-teens, no doubt, she looked cute and the questionable look that crossed the girl’s face was followed up by a prompt.

“That man over there, he smells and needs to be changed – I’ll pay lots of baht,” she moved toward the table, their form of currency was enough to get a yes. The young hotel girl had brought two more of her friends and with the condition that Elijah’s presence be kept a secret – they had taken care of the chores, from bed baths and changes, solely helping Samantha when it came to changing the dressings of his wound. At one point it became a question of one who was more curious than the rest as to how he got injured – the other two girls had shushed her, nearly scolding her severely, but Samantha had only grinned and gave them a stern look.

“I got him with another woman, so I shot him.” The constant giggles began, each looking to Samantha with interest and envy.

By Thursday he began to stir deeper in his sleep, even shifting to his side to get comfortable. Wide awake, Samantha had moved to his side, with a cup of mouthwash and a swap. “Oh, is my princess finally going to wake?” She was lively and dressed differently – having shopped at the expense of billing the hotel. With the custom of Thailand clothing, the rust and orange colored pants slacked off that shapely frame, the shirt was darker, clung to her waist and the small, but light shoes were worn inside. Swapping it against the inside of his mouth, the girl grinned – keeping up with hygiene was easier now and common. Writing a note and placing a cell in his pocket – in case he awoke when she was out.

“Maybe a kiss will wake you..?” Pausing, she held the side of his face and leaned down, planting a chaste one against his lips. “Tastes minty,” in reference to the mouthwash, she set the cup aside and left, but paused in the mirror to give herself a once over. Letting her hair down for once, she left and closed the door, putting a finger to her mouth as the hotel girls were nearby and left.

Cold, refreshing water fell from the shower head, pouring down against his head. Wearing a black tee shirt, sporting the three pronged Trinity symbol, he found at the foot of his bed, along with the faded jeans that he had been wearing when he awoke, he held his head in the shower while fully clothed. Bending over as to not get his shirt wet, he held his head in the cold stream for thirty seconds, wiping the sleep from his eyes and feeling awake. Shaking his head violently like a dog, much of the water was scattered off, a nearby towel finishing the job. The towel was still damp. Sam had only left a short time ago.

Glancing at the mirror above the sink, he saw that he needed to shave. Determined to finish in a couple minutes, he searched for a shaving razor. Unable to locate one, he settled for a square razor blade. Using only blade and water, he quickly shaved off the stubble, careful all the while not to nick himself. Not bothering to clean up the sink, as it was a hotel, he swiftly left the door to his room. Spinning around when he was a few steps away, he saw that the room number was 324. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, he moved down the stairs with haste, skipping every other step, finding himself on the main floor, the lobby. Putting the brakes on, his world stopped moving so fast and he took in what was around him. For one, this definitely wasn't the states, there were only Asian people about and the writing, it was, Thai. He was in Thailand. The very thought of the country reminded him of the Thai food back home. Grumble! Feeling his stomach growl, Elijah felt that he was starving for food.

In his lacking knowledge of the Thai language, he said to an employee at what he thought was the information desk, the equivalent of, "Restaurant?" The employee pointed to the front doors of the hotel. She said some words that Elijah roughly translated to as, "Outside...right...corner." Thanking her, the nineteen year old left the hotel. Taking a right, he jogged in his black Nike tennis shoes that he had found in his room. The sidewalk was clean and busy with people walking both directions. Stopping at the corner, he looked across the street diagonally and saw his target at the opposite corner, the restaurant. The restaurant was packed, visible through freshly cleaned, giant glass windows.

Traffic was a constant flow, with no crosswalk in sight. For short periods it stopped to let another direction go, but as soon as one stopped, the other started, not giving him a chance to safely cross. Studying the pattern of the cars, he found a small opportunity for himself and took it, booking it across the street, then again, winding up at the entrance to the restaurant. Looking at his hand, he purposely placed it on a window, leaving an imprint with his fresh oils on it, just so other getting it dirty wouldn't be as big of a deal. Pulling on the bottom of the door handle, where it was hardly used, as he did not want to touch a handle that multitudes of hands previously did, he held it open for a couple, then entered.

There were no tables open, each was filled with lively people eating delicious Thai food. Grabbing a menu from near the door, for those who were waiting to be seated, he glossed over it, finding at least ten items that looked exquisite. Lowering the menu, his eyes caught the sight of something far more exquisite, Samantha, wearing a rust colored tank top. Weaving through the aisles, sliding past a few waitresses, almost knocking one over, he made it to where Sam was sitting, at a table for two, with one seat empty. She was looking at a menu, not appearing to know he was there, but he was sure she had seen him. Clearing his throat, he said in English, "Excuse me Miss, but is this seat taken?"

Smiling, he took a seat opposite her. Trying not to show it, he was uncomfortable in this environment. So many people, so many eyes that glanced his way, so many cell phone conversations, anyone could be a threat, and they would most likely slip beneath Elijah's radar. Stretching his arm out to the side, he said to Sam, "I was out for a few days eh?" His stomach growled again. "I'm famished, has the waitress been to your tabl...?" Before he could finish his sentence, the waitress had presented herself at their table. She was a bit surprised to see Elijah there, as he had not been there a few minutes earlier when she had passed through. Sam was up first to order, but she told Elijah to go ahead, that she was till deciding.

Cutting down on the ten items he had in mind earlier, as his stomach would by no means be able to hold that much food, he zeroed in on two main dishes. "Pad Thai and Pad Preow Wan." Ordering the first with the hottest rating, four stars, and the second with the mildest rating, one star, he wanted to have a mix between the two extremes. Listening as Sam gave her order, he was tempted to change one of his plates to hers, as it sounded equally delicious to the items he had ordered. Receiving a glass of water shortly after, he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip of the ice cold water, the medium sized ice cubes brushing against his upper lip.

"What did the market have in stock today?" His words were in code, translating to the phrase, 'What has headquarters assigned us today?' Getting some information from her, limited as speaking in code was not suitable to convey much detail. Changing the topic when he noticed the numbers, the price associated with the items on the menu, that he did not have any currency on him. "I don't have any way to pay for this meal." If Sam had not been here, he very well would have bought a meal, eaten it, and been out of luck with no method of payment. Sam might have found him washing dishes or in the local jail. She told him that she had more than enough to provide for the both of them, after all they had been paid after completing their last mission.

Slipping her arm underneath the table she handed Elijah his wallet, telling him that she had her reasons for keeping it on her person while he was sleeping. In response to her action, he said warmly, "Thank you for keeping it safe." Eyes dropping for a second, he broke open his wallet and eyed the contents over, making sure nothing was missing. Not saying he didn't trust Sam, but he was still on his toes from back in the outpost, when he had caught her from the broken table and wound up completely at her mercy.

Smelling the aroma from the food around the restaurant, Elijah could hardly take it any longer. Just before he was about to be driven insane by the hunger, the waitress arrived with his two main dishes and Sam's dish. Failing to use his manners a more than a few times, he devoured both dishes, feeling still hungry at first, but waiting as Sam told him that his mind had not caught up with the amount of food he had eaten, because of how rapidly he had consumed it. Sipping on his water as the fires from the super spicy Pad Thai burned in his mouth, he felt the increasing feeling that his stomach was at it's limit. Paying for both his and her meals, they left the restaurant and stood outside. Elijah wanted to return to the hotel room, Sam wanted to explore downtown... they explored downtown.

Visiting more stores than Elijah was used to, he soon felt tired until they came to a motorcycle shop. Falling for one of the ones on display at the front of the store, he walked around the store with Sam, who had a bigger interest than he thought in the motorized machines. Wandering over to the one of his interest, he looked it over. A salesperson came up behind him without his notice, and said to him in English with hardly a trace of an accent, "There is a special today, Mr. Walker, one bike for the price of none." Flashing him a Trinity symbol, Elijah was hesitant to take the offer, as there was something about the sales person that seemed a little off. Turning back to the bike, he saw Sam, thirty feet away, and mouthed, 'Get the key.'

Seeing the motion of the salesman drawing a handgun, Elijah abruptly forced himself backwards, slamming into the man and knocking the pistol out of his hand. Before the man could recover, Elijah had mounted the bike, an all black, high output, Suzuki Hayabusa with a custom turbocharger outfitted to it, and rolled it off of the stand. Sam was right behind Elijah and jumped on the back of it, after delivering a kick to the salesperson, keeping him down, and proceeding to give Elijah the key. Thrusting it into the ignition, he turned it and revved the engine as it roared to life. The fuel gauge was nearly on empty, but he was thinking ahead. Burning rubber he peeled out and went through the front, motion activated, sliding doors. Outside, he leaned over and grabbed a red, plastic container of premium fuel with his left hand, and handed it to Sam for her to fill the tank up. Speeding out on the open roads, Elijah knew that there was no going back to the hotel. He said with a smile, "How do you like the bike?"

The tables were just a few feet away from one another – as young, lovely couples had stared at one another, occasionally they turned their gaze and met Sam’s. A complimentary smile would be exchanged every now and then before the brunette returned to her spicy Thai tea. The chill of the ice cubes clanked against the cup and occasionally her eyes returned to the menu, not entirely sure of what she wanted. It was getting lonely eating by herself all the time and while a few had ventured near Sam’s tables, the other culture was too uncomfortable to sit down and talk to the foreign beauty.

With a slight lopsided smile, she cupped her face and found the presence of another at her table. Instead, she knew who it was – good ol’ faithful, Elijah. Those dark marble hues shifted up from the menu and over at the young kid, who flashed a genuine smile and spoke, with a voice she had nearly forgotten the sound of. “I’ve been out for a few days, eh?” His gaze went to the menu, mentioning of his extreme hunger, having fasted unintentionally.

“You know how to make a girl feel lonely, buddy,” she murmured, just under her breath and gave an order of Thai soup, with lemongrass flavoring. It held just enough spices to clear the sinus of someone ill, but not enough to detour the flavor. He on the other hand had ordered two main courses, of which, was devoured – leaving the conversation to die right there. Swirling her spoon in the soup, she ate some of it and was tempted to not to respond to the market comment.

“I haven’t checked the newspaper,” she retorted, briefly and instead asked that they go window shopping – if nothing else. She didn’t want to spend all day cramped in the hotel, as she had before. Returning his wallet with ease, she ate a bit more and decided that altogether her appetitive was lost.

Stupid Elijah, why couldn’t all men have ESP?

With some reluctance, Sam had managed to get her way – as they shopped briefly, her eyes looking at all the glittery trinkets. One in particular, a few hair ornaments, that held an orange gem stone. It was feminine, soft and approachable – for now more than a few baht’s – dollars, but when she opened her mouth, Elijah had wandered off toward the bike shop. Apart of her had wished that while he was crossing, he had hit an IED plastic explosive, but refrained from voicing any anger. The salesman had began to approach her, but those dark lovely hues, glared with fuming anger unconsciously in his direction and instantly he had turned, approaching Elijah instead.

With her back turned, she glanced at the keys and looked back – surprised to see a full on fight going down. Not bothering to life a hand to help – as she had left her weapons back at the hotel, she watched and grabbed a key, the rightful one before tossing it to the boy. A full u-turn of that bike was handled with skill and precision, perhaps training that wasn’t lost from his former years at the agency. In return, she had hopped on the back, arms instinctively tracing around the young males torso. When they were free, driving along the street, she had filled up the tank with the gas and discarded of it by letting it go. The can had clanked, hitting the sidewalk and rolling away. His question had reached her ears, over the wind and rev of the engine – “How do you like the bike?”

Almost instantly she felt her thoughts drive in a different direction, the hairpins were a better choice, idiot, but instantly felt a slick guilt cover her. She was only tempted for a gift because she had carted around and cared for his corpse, but remembered that he had carried her part-way of the mission to. In terms of who owed what – they were equal and it was only those emotions that betrayed her, frustrated, she answered having lost her concentration.

“Anything free is always nice,” she felt herself bit the inside of her cheek – God, why did she have to be such a woman at times?! “Sorry, it’s just – I don’t like having my day ruined by hit men,” she explained deciding to cover her tracks in case he felt like he was the target or her words. No, now she just felt plain stupid and instead, retracted the remainder of her words by pressing her side of her face against Elijah’s back to hide from the force of the wind. She was missing a helmet, but in this part of the country it wasn’t an issue and she cared little for her life – after all, she didn’t see Elijah suddenly losing control over the bike.

And if he did, well… He better hope she died on impact, because she was going to be very angry.

The ride had removed enough of the tension off of her and she reluctantly gave in to the notion that it was nice to be on the road again. With no real course of direction, she assumed he knew where he was going or was only on the basis of putting distance between them and the hotel – in case there were more in the area. When they came to a stop, she pointed toward the deserted beach in the distance that was only filled with a few locals. Heading in that direction and coming to a park, the girl broke away, throwing one leg off and pulling away before balancing. Bending at her knees and stretching, she arched her back, arms ahead of her – the ride wasn’t that comfortable. If anything, she felt slightly fatigue and looked to Elijah who’s gaze was that of a kid with a new toy, he probably would have broke a willie if not for her on the back. And the off chance that she’d put two bullets in his backside in the process, not that he knew she was unarmed.

“Let’s get something to drink,” she started and went ahead, walking in the direction of the local vendor where they sold shaved ice. Taking a strawberry flavor one, she bought it, handing a bit of extra in currency as a tip.

“Before you begin about the mission, I don’t have any Intel – they haven’t contacted me yet, I don’t know – they have a funny way of dropping a dime.” Besides, she just wanted to talk, but chose to take a walk in the direction of the pier.

Street tires leaving the road, following Sam's direction, Elijah took the Hayabusa into the sandy beach. The racing motorcycle had more difficulty off road, tires slipping in the sand. The agent slowed the bike to a stop beneath a tree that provided enough shade to shield it from the suns rays. Letting Sam dismount the bike first, Elijah followed, propping it up against the tree, as the kick stand was useless in the sand. Removing the keys, he pocketed them and looked out over the barren beach. Only a few souls were in sight, the area appeared safe enough. Elijah glanced back at the Suzuki, with a desire to take it back on the roads and open the throttle... he dropped the thought, Elijah was on a mission, he needed to man up to be there for Sam.

Speaking of be there, she had put distance between them. Catching in twenty seconds, he was about to say something when she turned, as if he was walking beside her the entire time and said, “Let’s get something to drink.” Taking the lead, she approached a local vendor on the beach and bought some shave ice. Colored red, he assumed it was either cherry or strawberry. Ordering after her, he paid the vendor, purchasing a green apple flavored one. Catching up to Sam a second time, he slowly ate his shaved ice, taking small bites of it and letting it melt in his mouth. For once, the amount of syrup flavor was applied heavy enough, not like all those times in his younger years at the annual fair, where it was basically unflavored shaved ice.

On the verge of asking her about the mission, it was as if she had read his mind, "Before you begin about the mission, I don’t have any Intel – they haven’t contacted me yet, I don’t know – they have a funny way of dropping a dime." Listening to her words, he took another bite of his shaved ice. Wearing his tennis shoes around his neck, with the laces tied together, so as to not get them filled with sand, he walked barefoot. Venturing out into inch deep water, he replied, "I understand... they really operate at their own pace." His mind thought of the past events that had just unfolded before them, peaceful shopping turning into an action getaway.

"About the motorcycle shop...I..." He felt unsure of himself, of what to say. "I felt like I should have handled the situation differently. Everything happened so fast, the salesperson who knew my name and 'worked' for Trinity, it was all set up too perfect..." He paused, looking at her with a discontent look on his face, not content that he had put her into the dangerous situation and done nothing to back her up aside from taking down the assailent. Sure everything turned out alright, but if there had been others there, she could have been hurt, or worse... "Sorry, recalling the past, analyzing every detail to form better plans for similar situations in the future." Her expression told him that she wasn't too interested in what he was saying. Putting the analyzation process in the back of his mind, he thought of something both of them could relate to.

Stepping back onto the dry sand, he said, "What was your favorite mission?" It was a question that he hoped would bring out the best memories of her time in the agency, remembering that she had been an orphan and this was the only life she knew. "You can think about it while I tell my story." Making motions with his hands, he started to tell the story. "It happened a long time ago, it was one of my first assignments. I had a partner, he was a few years older than me and showed me the ropes. Mexican drug cartel, on the border of Texas, the mission went flawlessly, no civilian lives lost, no unnecessary deaths, only us and the target. My partner dispatched him quickly. The end celebration was a time that will always remain in my memories..." His voice trailed off. "I only wish it would have stopped with that mission." It was a reference to how the following missions had begun his unfortunate loss of partners. He started thinking, about what he had learned from that partner, never realizing until now that because of his training, the consistent loss of partners followed. Was it really not by chance? Letting his thoughts slip, he listened to Sam's story.

As she finished up her story, they found themselves walking on the pier. Spanning the entire length of it, Sam finished telling her story when they were at the end. "Interesting tale." Taking a seat at the end, he let his legs fall over the side, feet a few feet above the waters below. "Water looks calm tonight..." Leaning over to see his reflection, he suddenly felt gravity take over as he fell into it. Unsure if he had leaned too far, or if Sam had given him a slight nudge, he laughed as he stood up in the waist deep water. On his back, he wore a small pack, which he had taken from their hotel room. It occured to him that he had only checked the contents at the very top of the bag, something may have been valuable in it that water could damage. Swinging the bag up on the pier, he said, "Took this from the hotel, not sure what's in it..." In fact the bag happened to have both of his machine pistols, his Skorpions, and one of Sam's handguns, and a few other items. Taking off his shirt, he splashed a little water at her. He teased, "Better follow me in case I start drowning." Submerging below the water he swam away from the pier.

“I understand… They really operate at their own pace.”

And like that – he went on, thinking again. Which never was a good sign for Samantha, she felt unsure of his thoughts and the insecure feeling was something she couldn’t shake. Where she stood with Elijah was uncertain – apart of her wanted to know how he viewed her: a chore, a responsibility, a double-agent? There was no leaving Elijah – there was no abandoning the mission or forsaking Trinity – not without consequences and the pressure she applied to herself doubled her emotion.

Trapped, she wanted out, but ‘escaping’ wasn’t possible, not without forever watching over one’s shoulder.

“About the motorcycle shop, I…” He began and she looked up, those eyes taking in the strong jaw, borderline strength – momentarily sizing him up. Still he talked and she knew then that whatever surfaced to his forehead was the first thing out of his mouth. “I felt like I should have handled the situation differently. Everything happened so fast, the salesperson who knew my name and ‘worked’ for Trinity, it was all set up too perfect…” He was reassessing the situation, analyzing over every detail – she didn’t need to be in his head to just know that he was looking for small telltale signs there – of how or why.

Her face turned away, eyebrows threading together feeling slightly distraught – he’d only woken a few hours ago and already his mind was on the mission – apart of Sam had hoped he picked up and read between the lines. If she didn’t have any Intel, she wasn’t looking to start talking, so he did it for the both of them. “What’s your favorite mission?” He questioned and she felt herself grow cold and uncaring. That’s all Trinity could do – churn out blank surface level agents – with surface level lives. It wasn’t his fault, but right now, every bone in her body was stopping herself from pitching her snow cone at his eye.

Cold water had splashed, wetting those black leggings as she zoned back in – to find the young kid splashing around. Tan colored skin had warmed and she felt her cheeks grow hot, fluid with anger and emotion, but her frustrations weren’t vented. Instead, she dipped her head low, uttering a few syllables, “Stupid Elijah is stupid,” her voice felt so tiny and oh, how Samantha hated herself for taking it out on him.

What remained of her uneaten snow-cone was dropped into the water, the warmness melting it away. She felt her face grow hot as that lip curled. “I don’t need you to protect me you big idiot – I’m not some pet whose going to feel loyal because you saved the last clip of ammo!” The young woman fumed, overruled by her emotions, but her eyes narrowed at him anyways. “And another thing – that thing, yeah back there at the motorcycle shop? I could have handled him myself; I’m not going to take a bullet for your arse so you better remember to watch it on your own.” She bit the inside of her lip, throwing out a mocking tone, ‘mission this, and mission that.’

With a heavy breath, she took two more, to calm herself before finishing. “And don’t say your sorry, you don’t even mean it – I hate you…” Her voice pitched and she felt the hot tears fall, streaming down her face as those lips turned into a full on pout. She cried, briefly and out of reach. She had never felt so childish in her life until being partnered with him, but rather than dive into the water – she pulled her legs up and covered a hand over her mouth, walking away quickly. Given that he was in the water – it would give her more time to get away, at least so he couldn’t see her face. Settling near a pair of rocks, she sat on the higher end, just out of the low tide that crept in. Her arms circled around her legs and she buried her face in her lap.

Stunned by her reaction, her emotions boiling over in front of him, he heard what she said and was speechless. He had no idea that she was feeling that way inside, he had been too preoccupied with thoughts of their next mission to pay much attention to her emotions, to treat her like a human, instead of a hardened agent. Elijah needed to stop thinking with his mission based mindset, he needed to dig deeper, to be the the partner, no, the man that she needed to comfort her. She finished with, "And don’t say your sorry, you don’t even mean it – I hate you…"

Elijah held back a tear from his eye as her words pierced right through his chest, wounding his heart. For so long he had been focused on missions, not getting involved in relationships, to avoid both love and hate, to have only mutual acceptance for the time being. This one, Sam, was different than the rest, of course he knew that from the first day he had met her, but he felt like his eyes were opened for the first time at seeing what she was going through. Watching her walk away, he remained at the pier, deciding that pursuing right after her could lead to a worse situation. The nineteen year old breathed in a large gulp of air, submerging underneath the water.

Challenging himself to stay under until he thought of what to tell Samantha, Elijah would hold true to his challenge, even if it meant passing out underwater. Think, think, think, STOP! This is what got me into this, thinking. I've been obsessing about the mission, even before it has started! Some bubbles escaped his lips, his oxygen supply diminishing. I need to change, to go beyond myself. This mission will be no different than the others, an objective to complete, with high risk and high reward... but was the reward really worth it? He thought of the bullet in his shoulder that Sam had removed, giving him medical attention. She could have left me, she could have been assigned with a different partner, it would have been so easy, yet maybe...just maybe she saw something in me worthwhile, even if I wasn't showing it. Heart pounding, his last bubbles escaped his lips.

Fighting against falling unconscious, he emerged from the water, overcoming his personal challenge. Blinking to get the water out of his eyes, he didn't see Sam. He came to the pier and pulled himself half way up, flutter kicking his feet to propel him the extra distance. Supported on his wrists, holding up his body at the waist, he saw Sam off in the distance, with her face hidden in her lap. Pants dripping with water, he walked over to where she was curled up and stopped, ten feet away. Staying silent for fifteen seconds, he cleared his throat and began. "I...I know you probably don't want to hear what I have to say, but please hear me out." Taking few steps forward, within her range, he extended his right hand out, giving the gesture to shake hands. "If you are willing to give me one more chance... I would like to start over." Holding his out outstretched, he continued. "Hi, I'm Elijah Walker, not your partner, a friend." Already out of his comfort zone, he broke the limits, continuing on.

"A friend who sees you as you are, as a warrior who can look out for not only herself but others as well." His chest bare from the swimming, he looked down at his shoulder and felt the scar from the bullet wound. "Sam you could have left me in Argentina." A tear came to his eye, for so long had he not cried, but he didn't care now. His voice uneasy, he got a hold of himself mid sentence, speaking clearer and with more confidence, "Thank you...for rescuing me, I am in your debt." Attempting to wipe the tear from his eye with the flat of his arm, he held himself back. "I was out of place, what I said back there, not treating you how you deserve to be treated... I see now that you are twice of what I will ever be." Keeping his arm outstretched, he finished with, "Samantha, I am sorry, will you forgive me?"

It was that flood of emotion, so overwhelming and while it suffocating – the pain was temporary. What she was left with was shame and regret, coupled with guilt for lashing out on someone who was a complete stranger. Apart of her wanted to dig a hole, burry her conscious and return back as if it was nothing – but it wouldn’t change anything.

His presence crept up behind her – the genuine footsteps of someone who highly trained, highly skilled. With a breath leaving her body, she decided to breath and hear him out – not going to run. He deserved that much and probably an apology; she pulled her legs tighter, resting her cheek on her knee. He held a sympathetic approach – his voice, real, a tone Samantha hadn’t heard before. How could she be sure he was telling the truth? Then again, he didn’t really have a reason to lie.

At least he had a sweet side and ironically she felt a smile creeping up on her lips. It was lopsided and completely unnecessary, but she turned her gaze over to see Elijah. “Of course I do. Now I feel silly…” Rubbing at the corner of her eyes with the palm of her hands, Samantha reached out for that hand and stood, standing close.

“I’m Samantha; it’s nice to meet you.” Occasionally when she made eye contact – she felt a smile and then form. “Sorry…” Her gaze went down to the floor, eyeing those wet toes before going up towards Elijah’s juvenile mug. “I shouldn’t have snapped on you like that – I got so caught up in what others think of me,” she could feel the excuses pouring in and silenced herself then. The brunette paused wondering how it worked had she simply been born a man – a male agent held that sort of brotherhood. Every now and then at HQ she could see the division and felt jealous over that invisible line that separated her from them. The touch and go, no worries about hurt feelings and with a little remorse she bit the inside of her cheek – feeling sheepish and small in comparison.

“I was jealous,” she confessed, eyes looking down and then back up at those warm American greens. Her dialect was inching in the further she talked – as Samantha was some sort of mutt a delicate mix between either Cuban descent or Cherokee. “I always heard stories about you, I just was trying to prove something to myself and I took out my past failures on the mission on you. You didn’t do anything wrong, Elijah,” a small hand had cupped his face, a thumb running along that cheek – feeling the recent shaved smooth skin.

Speaking of skin – he was currently shirtless and while the midst of emotions was flowing between them, even then Sam couldn’t help but lose slight concentration. Off that weather-beat face and along those round shoulders, taut chest… “So,” she cleared her throat, losing train of thought.

“Um, I owe you something – don’t I?” Looking up at him – her lips curled in a small impish smile. “I was serious you know, about that kiss,” she corrected, pointing at her cheek. “Right here though…” There was a small pause, watching the emotions on his face change – ranging from surprise to disappointment and then some acceptance. It was better than nothing, but when he leaned down, she slid a hand moving his face towards hers – pressing her lips to his for a brief chaste kiss, eyes closed.

Pulling away momentarily, she confessed slightly, “Guess it would feel a little different when you’re awake,” she could see the statement register in his head, but this time – she moved closer, her arms wrapping around his neck as Samantha pressed her forehead to his. She leaned in further, feeling slightly forward as she took the lead and kissed at that bottom lip of his.

Elijah's calloused fingers were taken by her smaller, more delicate ones, bridging the gap between them. He was forgiven! The high that he felt was taller than the Burj Khalifa. Samantha was turning his world upside down. In the short time he had known her, his view of her had changed many times. A mystery, possibly a double agent, unpredictable, a burden, a contender, a savior, a partner, and now...a friend. Unable to explain the feelings he felt, the dam that held his emotions back was cracking, the stronghold he had spent so many years building up on the verge of collapsing. A part of him was tempted to pull back and repair the damage before it was permanent. Not this time...

Listening to her words, she told him that she shouldn't have acted in the way she did. Knowing that her reaction was spurred by his own actions, he said in response, "I'm sorry you felt that way." He realized that she had been jealous of him, he felt some of the pain she was feeling, as he had felt the same way about figures in his life that he longed to be like, never feeling like he measured up. His dad, a few of his earlier partners, he lost the thought as he curled his toes into the sand. Standing in place, he was all ears, taking in her words about how she had heard stories about him, albeit exaggerated, and was trying to live up to them or beyond. Hearing her confess that he did nothing wrong, sounded wrong to him, he knew that he had played a part in this, even if she was not willing to admit it. "You speak too highly of me...the last mission would have been a failure, if not for you." He nodded that it was indeed true, a short silence following between them.

"So," Sam said, transitioning to a new topic. “Um, I owe you something – don’t I?” Unsure of what she meant, until she said, "I was serious you know, about that kiss." A surprised look spread across his face, his eyes widening and lower jaw involuntarily dropping. "Right here though..." She indicated her cheek by pointing at it. Feeling a little disappointment, like he was offered a major prize but given a minor one, for only a moment, he quickly reshaped his thinking, smiling at her generous offer. He leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek...but never made it there. Instead he found himself kissing her lips... his heartbeat raced as his the impulses from his nerves went from his lips to his mind and back to his lips, registering with his brain that was not a dream.

As quickly as their lips had touched, they parted, Sam easing back a short distance. She confessed, "Guess it would feel a little different when you’re awake." It took his mind a few seconds for it to click, like an outdated computer running old software. "You mean when I was uncons...?" Getting cut off as she embraced him again, wrapping her arms around his neck, she moved in close, touching her forehead to his, kissing at the bottom of his lip. The walls holding back his emotions crumbled, as he walked his lips down meeting hers. Returning her initiated kiss, he felt like his body had left the ground and was up among the clouds. Elijah wrapped one of his arms around her back, holding her close. Mind overrun with emotion, he kissed her long with a passion that abounded with happiness. Restraining himself to not overdo it, he kissed her at a slower pace, taking in every moment. It was as if the time continuum had paused for Elijah, he wasn't in Thailand, he wasn't waiting for his next mission, he wasn't on the beach with only his pants on, he was with her...

After forever had passed, the sun was setting, Elijah laid back on the sand next to Sam. For once in his life he had forgotten about thinking about the mission, or in this case, the mission to be. For a long time in his youth he had dreamed of a day like this, but as time passed, growing into his later teens, he felt it becoming more of a fantasy. But this was real, as real as the sand the slipping through his fingers, as real as Sam's warm hand that he held onto. Sam was the first he had ever kissed, he would cherish that forever and make sure nothing happened to her, even if it meant sacrificing himself. Elijah felt like his entire outlook on life was redefined, that everything he known in the past leading up to this moment was a counterfeit reality, that this was his purpose. Perhaps he was over thinking things again, as he was known to, but he didn't care. Smiling, he said, "Thank you for being here for me Sam, it means more than you will ever know." Sitting up, he watched as the sun vanished over the horizon, the night was upon them. Offering to help Sam up to her feet, he said, "It's getting dark, we should find some shelter for the night."

It was easy to feel that smile pressing against her lips as Eli returned Samantha’s kiss with slight affection. His return help prolong that exchange between the two – feeling her skin grow warm when he wrapped an arm around her. She took a small bit at the bottom of his lip when the kiss broke and took a seat in the sand and rock. Her hands were placed behind her and she settled into the sand as the soldier began to talk.

“Thank you for being here for me Sam, it means more than you will ever know,” he spoke – sitting up. The sun was vanishing behind the ocean waters, making it look a little cold, empty and stark. By the time she was on her feet, he was suggesting that they find a place to stay. The other one wasn’t unsuitable – compromised and perhaps others were already waiting there. Whatever was stored would be counted a total loss, but thankfully Samantha had traveled light. The same could be said for her partner.

Taking him by the arm she pulled him back and threw a foot to sweep under his. Letting gravity do the rest - she looked over and grinned. “Afraid of the water?” It was dark, but regardless the girl had moved toward the ocean – feeling the chill touch her feet. She yelled lightly, but most of the waves had drowned it out, “It’s cold!” Laughing, the girl dove in past the first wave and yelled out for Elijah to join her. Diving under she disappeared for awhile and surfaced, waiting to see if he would join her. When he finally did, after working up some nerve, the girl swam – feeling slightly relaxed and after a little less than an hour – decided it was time to get out.

With a slight chill and mischievous laugh, she nudged Elijah, her clothes sticking to her – “Hungry? My treat besides I worked up an appetite; I could go for something spicy…” Her mind trailed off as she looked at the number of men that were before her. In their dark playtime – a small gang had begun to occupy the beach. They spoke in their dialect, locals – if not the worst kind and threatened Elijah to simply hand over Samantha, if he wanted to live.

Her gaze went down like clockwork at the sheer numbers, stopping somewhere past twelve, but knew there was more. They were unarmed and there was a high chance that the weapons they did have wouldn’t fire as it had gotten wet. She swallowed, her arms wrapping around her feeling the chill and dread as her clothes stuck to her body. She stuck a bit behind Elijah’s frame, wanting to hide her current appearance. The looks she received had less to do with appreciate and more so because of the intent and agenda these men had.

A few were armed with bats that looked broken in, used and dirty while some carried a chain and the others that didn’t have anything appeared to be armed with probably a hidden knife or two. There was a high chance that their numbers didn’t end here – there were more, if only a phone call away. That was how most asian gangs acted – like a large family or a pack, traveling in numbers that was closer to a small militia army. As it stood, Samantha’s thoughts raced – wondering what to do, if the fight had broken out; Elijah was the type to lose himself concerned for her sake more than his and he went out – she knew she’d have to rely on keeping him safe.

“Maybe… I should go with them,” she felt a chill creep through her, emotions swimming across her face as she looked at the young teen. Leaving his side she began to walk, closing the gap between the ring leader – a middle aged man, late thirties, with a few scars on his lip and face. There was a surge of laughs aimed toward Elijah, snickers and sneers until it drew to a thin silence.

She was sprinting, feet digging into the sand and while the man tensed in surprise – he held his footing, figuring that he could take her petite size. Instead, his face was kissed with a hard elbow that held a crunch effect and when he fell to his knees, her hand grabbed at the back of his head forcing it into an elbow that lifted to meet his face. Still holding his head she pried it away, dropping the unconscious body and motioned for the others with a quick rapid flick of her fingers in a ‘come here’ motion.

They charged, swarming in like a circle. Tightening her body, Sam stuck her foot in the ground and kicked up enough sand to blind those that were shoulder close. With the same foot falling to the ground, the young girl twisted at the torso as she turned and followed with a round-house kick, her heel contacting with a cheekbone. Those eyes flashed with a cruel smile as she grabbed the shoulders of her victim and pulled his weight toward her, her knee meeting the lower abdomen of the male’s body. The cry filled her ears, loud, like a shrill wife and with a finishing head butt, her forehead slammed against his knocking the second victim out cold.

Now there was hesitation, each body paused – eyes looking to one another as to who would go next. They were all thinking the same thing – together, they could take her, if they charged as a whole, but none were really ready to risk their crotch just yet. One managed to emerge, but while she settled herself, arms in front of her, right foot slightly pressed forward – she had to look up to see the next match. He was tall, unusually tall for someone in Thailand but he held trace amounts of foreign blood and held a chain that was wrapped around his arm. The build on him was that of a man possessed – looking closer to a sailor’s build, a larger upper body torso and powerhouse legs.

Like before she threw sand and rushed to the right, tucking in she rolled with one flip and was back on her hands and feet. Tossing her words toward Elijah – she gave him a slight grin. “Well come on, don’t just stand there looking pretty, it’s not your butt I’m fighting to save! Woah!” She ducked back, feeling the wind of the chain whip near her face, but had avoided it and moved out of range.

"Well come on, don’t just stand there looking pretty, it’s not your butt I’m fighting to save! Woah!" Her words breaking the spell, Elijah looked alive and saw the immediate threat before him. Leaving his more loving, emotion filled state and returned to his normal, hardened, fighting ways, he eyed the opposition, formulating possible moves. More men than could be counted on two hands... and Sam was fighting them by herself! Proving her skill she had already dispatched two of them, currently on her third, who was dangerously whipping a chain around. Getting close to Sam with the chain, too close, Elijah watched her shift back on the sand, out of the attackers range. Elijah knew that the full serving of Thai had the advantage at range, due to his longer reaching weapon. As she stepped back, Elijah took the oppurtunity to move in.

Quick on his feet, even with water soaked pants, he was within range. Acting on what had become instinct, he sent an open palm to the bottom of the man's chin, clashing his teeth together. Jarring, cracking, and knocking loose a few of his teeth, the man was in even more pain, as he had foolishly had his tongue between his teeth, a bad habit in a fight. The saliva covered, bloody tip of tongue muscle fell to the ground and attracted particles of the dry sand. The swung chain, still having some momentum, was taken advantage of by Elijah, directing it right into another one of the Thai's lower jaw bone, knocking him out cold. Not finished with the chain wielder, Elijah brought his knee up and stomped on the victim's right knee from the side, tearing both muscle and cartalidge leading to a hyper-extension. Two down...

Louisville Slugger to the side of his cheek, from his blind spot, sent Elijah seeing stars. Regaining his footing and balance before the attacker could follow up with another hit, the agent said, with a trickle of blood flowing down the edge of his mouth, "Try that again." The man actually tried it again, this time Elijah was ready. Stopping the predictable strike with his arm, before the bat had much power, Elijah rode his arm up the bat, and slammed into the front of the man's neck with his forearm. This delivered borderline windpipe crushing power, taking the man to the ground with a leg sweep. Crouching down, Elijah picked up the bat and held it over his shoulder, like he was posing for a MLB photo. "Who's next hmm?" For some reason the 'All You Can Beat Buffet' didn't look pleasing to them. Not wanting to stick around, they helped their downed comrades up and took leave. Shouting at them, Elijah yelled, "We own this beach now! Do you hear me?!"

Collapsing on Sam when the gang was out of sight, feeling the aftershocks of the bat to his cheek, his greens caught hers, fueling him with the strength to stand to his feet again. He said with a half serious tone, "I'll live." Taking another step, he stopped as his stomach growled. "Do I recall your offer to buy us some spicy chow?" She played with him like a game, giving him a look that told him otherwise. "Oh, I guess I got hit harder than I thought. That's right, I'm buying." Walking to the motorcycle he had parked, he offered her to drive. If she did not take the offer, he was more than happy to drive the racing machine. Tires touching the road again, they had a choice to make. Right was back where they came from, the city, which had some good eats but could have the possibility of people after them, but then, what place didn't? Left was a mystery. Looking both ways, he said, "Your choice, left or right?"

Elijah had switched places – aiming to take the biggest giant down and for the mean time, Samantha had opted to watch his back. Her arms raised above her head, crossing over as the feel of a bat had struck the center of her forearm. It was a good block, but it still made contact and the recoil hit her shoulders – she was definitely going to be sore tomorrow. Her expression flourished from a simple frown, to her lip curling in anger. With an enclosed fist, her free hand wrapped around the small hand as she threw her elbow into the other man’s throat, a bit of choked saliva had coughed up landing on her cheek and neck. The victim sank to his knees, one hand clutching his windpipe as he both gagged and gasped for air. With a finishing connect, she threw the back of her fist cracking against his temple and picked up the bat that had dropped to the sand.

With a bit of sprint she ran towards another, who was running towards her as well and took a swing – missing his nose by an inch. He stepped backward with one foot, his torso and his upper body was just out of range. And when the assailant knew it, he smirked, with a short ‘he’ escaping his lips – mocking her. Her eyes narrowed, flipping the bat over her wrist and catching it on the fly with the palm of her hands. She took a swing at that extended leg that buckled, his voice yelling as it reached her ears. Shifting her left foot into the sand, she threw the remainder of her weight into one more sufficient swing that made contact with his temple, but the wooden bat shattered against the skull. The man’s eyes were stunned, distant and she moved back, when he sank to his other knee.

Uncertain if it was enough, she threw her head forward, to another hit on the skull, but stopped just a few inches away. A hand came up, dropping the bat, and two fingers pressed against the man’s shoulder pushing him back as he went unconscious. The blow from the weapon had sufficed and Elijah was finished as well. The remainder sent the group packing – dragging their comrades, watching as the boy had declared they owned the beach.

“Pfft, that’s just…” She started and laughed, for what felt like the first time since a long time. A hand came to cup her face, feeling shy, but she couldn’t resist. “You’re so lame…” Her voice was sheepish, watching him recover from the fall on his rear as he took a breather. In little time he was standing again and they walked toward the motorcycle, deciding on which way they should go. Instead, Samantha paused, the brunette looking up to the harsh red mark that covered a portion side of his face. Licking her thumb, she slicked back his eyebrow and spoke consoling, “Don’t worry – if anyone asks me how you got that bruise, just say I knocked you out.” She threw her fist into the palm of her hand, catching it, throwing the suggestion. “For giving me lip…” With her shoulder nudging into him, Samantha had laughed freely once more.

“I told you its my treat, unless that hit knocked the hearing out of you as well and you drive, I’m wet and cold,” she didn’t want to take the full force of the wind, considering they had just ventured for a night time swim. Waiting for him to get on, she followed suit and pointed for the left direction – Thailand was a big place and Samantha wasn’t about to risk dinner for a gun fight.

-- The missions continued thereafter, the follow 3 months were tied together with random assignments, targets. They were always on the tip of the border, in the blunt of harsh weather – extremely cold or dry, digging their way in through fortified mansions and villas as well as a few warehouses. The bond between the two had strengthened, if only on a platonic level, but Samantha had noticed that they were able to quickly cover one another’s weaknesses even more so. Her left weak shot was covered by Elijah’s precise aim and in return, she saw to watch his back when he took point. She oversaw that his protective nature didn’t get him killed, foreseeing the enemies movements. In all their luck they had even managed to avoid capture and torture, settling on hits and kills where the target never saw them coming.

With nothing more than a few scraps and bruises, they had settled in Panama, with a motel that was barely a hole in the wall. There was scarcely enough electricity to keep the radio on, let alone a few fans that blew cool air – they were considered bless to have running water, cold, but it was perfect as the dry humid weather didn’t allot for hot water. The motel had offered them a small kitchenette with the pastel white walls that held some yellowing and was beginning to peel. Samantha was currently sitting in front of a working fan, slightly lethargic from the evening weather. The girl had managed to luck out and win a few eggs as well as something that looked close to bacon for breakfast that shortly became their dinner. The old woman next door had baked them some biscuits – assuming they were a couple of tourist. At first she had only made some for herself, but when she saw that Elijah looked like a forsaken puppy – she had served him one as well. Glancing back at the table while he ate, her cheek pressed against the fan, which mellowed her voice.

“You haven’t heard anything from Trinity, have you?” She questioned – though knew it was pointless, unless they were talking to him in his head, in which case she would be needing a new partner. “What do they want out here in Panama anyways? The only things out here are runners, counterfeit money and a few drug leaders, but they’re not big enough for protocol…” It had been a few days since they Trinity had peeped a word to Elijah and it was beginning to feel as if they were abandoned to some impoverished countries. The funds were on a halt, as the last brief letter addressed to Walker was for him to keep a low profile.

Standing the girl had winced and then it was followed by a long groan. A right hand had gone to the left side of her waist, crossing over the front. “That last mission in Puerto Rico really did a number on me, I’m still sore,” Samantha murmured, watching as Elijah finished up the remainder of his breakfast, with nothing but water to wash it all down. “I think I got hit when that explosion went off,” pulling up the side of her shirt had revealed a purplish bruise on the point of impact – where the remainder of it circling had yellow, blue and a few green blotches. It was almost out of vision for Samantha to see and she leaned toward the windows reflection to see, but couldn’t get much of a sight on it.

The look on Elijah’s face was something close to discomfort and she had pulled her shirt down, hiding that bruise. “Don’t worry, I’ll have it wrapped and put ice on it – it won’t kill me,” she paused, remembering his lack of field medical expertise and did a half step, stumbling to lean against a wall. “Oh no, my vision is spinning,” she teased, but her laughter broke the façade. Settling back on the couch, the girl threw her legs over the arm of the chair, taking up half of the seating. She had compromised her artillery gear and traded it in for a civilian look – since it breathed easier, a pair of white shorts that went mid-thigh and a dark hunter green cotton tee.

There was a knock at the door and she tilted her head back, looking at everything upside from her point of view. “Answer that, will you?” And when he did, she heard two voices, male by the sound and from the glimpse between the shoulders they were walking in – seemingly knowing Elijah.

“Hey, thought I’d never see your mug since that one mission,” they were Trinity soldiers, two in their early thirties, no more than four years apart from Elijah. One was Caucasian and the other African-American, his head motioned toward the darker one, the blonde tipping his glance to his partner. “This is Paul, saved my butt more times than I can count.” The other had grinned, his voice deeper than the other.

“Nice to meet you, I heard a lot about you from Eric,” he held out his hand for a shake, politely.

Suspended in the air, hanging by his ankles on an overhead rafter, Elijah worked his abs with five repetitions of twenty sit-ups. Drops of sweat fell onto the motel floor, as he finished up his exercise. Working out was not the best idea, with food being scarce, but if he didn't work himself, the teen would feel sick. Finishing his last sit-up, he swung back and forth, each time lengthening the arc, until he released with his ankles, spinning backwards and landing on his feet softly.

Pulling his cotton sleeveless t-shirt down, he stopped and stared at Samantha. Sitting by a fan, the cool air blew against her face, whipping her hair back. Her beauty, he seemed to see it in her more, with each passing day, week, and month, not so much physical, but what was inside. Her eyes seemingly blind to his presence, he could tell that she was not feeling like moving, though he couldn't blame her. There had been no word from Trinity, they were in between missions, stuck in a motel room that was less than comfortably livable.

Wiping his brow, Elijah took a seat at the table. Empty except for a small, disposable plate with a biscuit and a glass of cold water, breakfast was going to be light, but then again that's usually how he liked it, as his appetite worked itself up during the day. Hearing Sam's voice, distorted slightly by her mouth being close to the fan, she said, "You haven’t heard anything from Trinity, have you?" Removing his cell phone from his front pants pocket, he unlocked it and replied, "Nah...nothing yet."

Taking a bite of his biscuit, his taste buds observed that it was a little bland, with a pinch much of salt. Not being one to complain, he ate it contently, happy to have every calorie his body could consume. Her voice clearer than before, Sam said, "What do they want out here in Panama anyways? The only things out here are runners, counterfeit money and a few drug leaders, but they’re not big enough for protocol…" Elijah took a sip of his water, the natural minerals in it giving it a minor unpleasant taste. Nothing was like the water from back home, he could almost taste it in his memory. Setting the glass down, harder than he tried to, a little splashed out of the cup and onto the table. "Nothing big enough on the surface...but perhaps underground, the roots go deeper."

From the table, he saw her rise to her feet, wincing from pain. Pulling up her shirt enough to show a horrible looking bruise from an explosion, Elijah wore a concerned look on his face. Telling him it was going to be alright, she said, "Don’t worry, I’ll have it wrapped and put ice on it – it won’t kill me." Taking the last bite of his biscuit, he washed the flour based food down his throat with the water, emptying the glass. "I won't. Just let me know if it gets worse." She stumbled back, "Oh no, my vision is spinning." Pushing off on the floor with his feet, his chair skidded back. Clear of the table, he started an attempt to run and catch her before she fell. Stopping half way there, with her laughing at her joke and him falling for it, he didn't look amused at first, then couldn't help but smile and laugh too, caught by her contagious laugh.

Watching her take a seat on the couch, with her bare legs draped over the side, he made his way over and was about to sit down on the couch, when a loud knock came from the door. Sam wasn't about to move, "Answer that, will you?" Elijah nodded, and said with humor in his voice, "Save me this seat?" Changing into his hardened, battle torn mode, he grabbed one of his signature Skorpions, the one with the ding in it, from when he had first met Sam, and looked through the peep hole on the door, ready to dive to the side, or open the door and eliminate a possible threat. Thinking out loud, Elijah said, "Eric?"

Opening the door, still holding his Skorp behind his back with his left hand, Elijah saw Caucasian Eric and his African-American partner. "Hey, thought I’d never see your mug since that one mission!" Elijah smiled, "Been a long time Eric..." At once, both drew a small firearm, Elijah his Skorp, Eric a H&K USP. Out sped, Eric was impressed, "Still faster than me, even with that outdated pea shooter." Elijah nodded, proud of his quick draw speed. They both holstered their weapons. Motioning to his partner, Eric said, "This is Paul, saved my butt more times than I can count." Paul smiled, and extended his hand for a handshake, "Nice to meet you, I heard a lot about you from Eric." Thinking that Paul might try and pull something, Elijah was careful when he shook his hand, ready for anything. When nothing happened, Elijah replied, "Pleasure is mine. Hopefully not too much." Elijah laughed, "You must know then that I haven't had the best luck keeping partners." Paul nodded, Elijah continued. "Well, I've had this one for three months and I guarantee you that I've been saved at least twice as many times as you've saved Eric." Eric looked impressed, "Sounds like a tough guy." Glancing over his shoulder, inside, in case she was listening, he turned his head back to facing Eric and Paul. "You have no idea."

Offering for them to come in, they entered into the motel room. Even though they still appeared to be friendly, Agent Walker never took his eye off them, always flinch ready to take them both out in a blink of an eye. Walking across the room from the door, they approached the couch from behind. Her figure was hidden behind the cushioned back. "Sam, we have some company."

There were a few extra voices – none of which Samantha could identify. They sounded friendly and by friendly – there wasn’t any sound of gunfire, yells and screams. Elijah’s voice was the easiest to pick apart – it was calm in nature, but strong suited only responding with information and answers. If she had to give him a card, he seemed closer to the Ace of Clubs – always drawing on skill rather than luck, when he gambled with his life. His voice now that she had got to know him better – made sense that the tones changed from friendly to serious when he was in the presence of another’s company.

Those dark brown eyes had looked at an upside visage of a young man, his build was rather medium-to large with blue eyes that looked a little empty… The brunette sat up, uncomfortable in her face, but it was only subtle things that the two guests didn’t pick up on. The tightening in her lip was apparent and the narrowing in her eyes addressed them as she offered a simple and soft, “Hello.” Leaning into the arm of the couch she scooted furthest away to offer room, but that didn’t detour Eric – his partner had stolen a seat on the bench, with a bit more modern respect.

“Well now – I certainly didn’t expect that this was what Elijah was talking about,” he sat close enough for their thighs to touch; an arm was along the head rest above Sam, cornering her. His tone held a dry humor, near disbelief as he looked down at the floor still talking. “But you know what really amazes me? Is that, I found Sam – yeah, he wasn’t the looker you got here though, Elijah.” His gaze went back toward Walker, down at the young man’s weapons as the tension shot to a high level, but he was calm and made no sudden movements knowing full well the situation. Instead those blues went toward Sam’s darker ones, who hadn’t changed yet. “In fact, he was dead, with four bullets right in his body, two in the head and two in the chest.” His free hand went to his chest on those key words, fingers pointed and then thrust toward his temple, now – there was a malicious glare on his face and a long pause, backing up like a cobra would before it leaped to attack.

Her throat went dry – the words touching her ears as the realization that her cover was blown. Hell, it couldn’t last forever – the collection on Sam’s money was running thin and it was growing harder to cover her footsteps. It was simple – she had overstayed her welcome.

“Took you guys long enough – what, you didn’t think your elite could fall just as fast?” She looked to Paul, whose face held some serious question – emotion, it was pathetic. “Elijah was the only one you wouldn’t look at because you put him so high above you, Trinity was always so full of itself,” she sneered, her tongue clicking. When her hand lifted, there wasn’t a weapon, but things moved slowly – slow enough for her to plant them in the man’s chest; he was arrogant, confident and assumed that by her size, he could take anything. “I killed harder men than you and Sam, he begged for his life you know – two in the chest and the bestard still wouldn’t die,” an eerie cold grin ran along those full lips. She slid her fingers up along that throat, under Eric’s chin and made a gun motion. “Bang.”

It set him off like a whip cracking, those large hands and fingers were squeezing her throat and rather than strangle her they held a much more sinister intention. They wanted to crush her windpipe, but she knew Elijah would move and didn’t bank on Paul interfering.

“Eric this isn’t what we agreed to! Let her go!” The loaded clip had caused him to grin, he released her and Samantha, choked, coughing, rolling off the couch and onto the harden floor. She was crawling away, toward the wall, but no one pursued her in such a small room. The color was coming back to her face and she rubbed freely at her throat.

“Men, huh – its easier to kill one another, but it doesn’t feel as good when it’s someone small.” She knew why when it came down to simple reasoning, there wasn’t that special high on winning when they already felt like the battle was over. The girl was back on her feet, head dipping a little low – not wanting to look at Elijah, but the questions came pouring out. They were American, so of course they had a lot of questions. For now it was buying her time…

“Why not just kill Elijah; you didn’t need him alive that long – did you? Or did you get a sick high off just using-..” Paul questioned but was interrupted.

“Finish that sentence and I’ll blow those lips off your mouth.” Her gaze went to remorse, “I needed him alive, I’m sorry Elijah, I wanted to tell you but…” She inhaled, feeling weapons drawn on her.

“She’s sick in the head, let’s just blow her away and tell Trinity she resisted, gave us no other choice,” Eric held that semi-auto in range, aimed at her head.

“I’m pregnant – I didn’t know until about a month ago,” her pearls bit down on that bottom full lip.

Eric had lost his resolved, turning to look over the shoulder at Elijah – mouthing a question of – ‘is it yours?’

Two shots were fired from a CZ SP-01, one that she had on her. In all the frenzy, Paul had lucked out in pushing Eric out of the way, taking two hits one to the shoulder and arm, but before she could finish, the sound of glass was breaking. She was out, running, without a glance back.

“God! Your such an idiot for falling for that one. Ahh….ahh…. She shot me, that …I’ll kill her! I swear it!” Paul was on the floor, crippling over in pain, eyes tense to shut out the tears that wanted to flow. “Go Elijah, just – bring her back, Trinity only wants to question her.”

Everything Elijah had known in the past three months was a lie, Samantha had been a double agent, she...why had she put up with him for so long? Unsure, he witnessed a few shots fired at her hands. Not flinching, trusting that she would not fire upon him, thoughts spun around wildly in his head. He was still alive. Not her target, he watched as she broke through the glass window and was gone. Injured by her shots, Paul laid on the ground, bleeding in pain.

"Go Elijah, just – bring her back, Trinity only wants to question her." Elijah was torn between thoughts and emotions of what had just transpired before him. "I'll catch her." Bolting out of the room, through the same open window, he landed on the ground and took off in a full bore sprint. Wearing a sleeveless cotton shirt and athletic shorts, along with tennis shoes on his feet, he was able to move at his fastest speed. Leaving the motel behind him, his mind began to register that she was, or used to be, an enemy to Trinity.

A horn blared from a beater up ahead, Elijah squinting his eyes to see. It was Sam! She was head over heels, the car had hit her when she had ran out in front of it. That, in addition to her badly bruising, would definitely slow her down. Elijah would not let her escape, if it was the last thing he would do. Rounding a corner at an intersection, Sam disappeared from sight. Pushing himself to his limit, Elijah made it to the intersection twenty seconds later, slowing down to catch his breath. She was fast! Scanning the road, looking at the crowds of people, the multitude of doors and windows, and the nonstop line of vehicles on the street, Elijah was unsure of her location.

"There you are..." Speaking to himself, he had spotted her climbing a ladder on a building a few hundred yards off. Dashing off in her direction, Elijah stopped when as he saw the ladder collapse down on the street below, the bolts taken out of it the top, the momentum of the old, rusty ladder pulling out the other bolts. On the ground with no ladder, Elijah took off running, formulating a plan faster than the ladder hit the ground. Timing was key here, leaping on the hood of a moving car, denting it, then into an open window. Sprinting past the dazed family inside, he ran up two flights of stairs, ending up at the nearest window. Sliding it open, he glanced down and gulped, a fall from this height would end this chase, roughly thirty feet up. Grabbing hold of the rusty, clogged gutter with his fingers, he swung out of the window. The sharp metal slit three of his fingers, the pain causing Elijah to clench his teeth. Hurt but unshaken, he pulled himself up on the gutter, nails starting to inch out as he was on the rooftop.

Careful of his footing, he climbed to the peak of the roof, forty feet above the ground. There was another rooftop near him, built to the same height. One problem, there was a ten foot gap. Taking in a deep breath, Elijah wiped some of the warm blood on his face, from his fingers, then closed his eyes. If he made this jump, he would be one building away from the one Sam had climbed. If not, there would be a mess to clean up down below. Determined, he opened his eyes and thrust off, each step accelerating him to face the challenge.

Leaping off of the rooftop, Elijah soared through the air, as if he had little wings attached to his tennis shoes. Landing on his knees, scuffing them up, he had to throw his balance forward to keep from falling backward. Heart racing, he clawed at the roofing with his fingernails, aiding in securing him. Stopping for only a moment, he rose to his feet, back on track, only a building between him and the one Sam had climbed up.

Covering the distance of the rooftop as fast as he could, he pushed off with his toes at the edge, clearing the six foot gap between between buildings. Now he was where he should have been minutes ago. Careening over rooftops in search for her, he was almost ready to give up, even though he had come so far, when he caught a glimpse of her figure. She had slowed down, her injuries likely getting to her, but so had he. Running on empty, feeling the fatigue from previously working out, Elijah was on the edge of passing out from over exhaustion.

Less than a minute later, continuing to push himself, he had finally done it. Only a rooftop away, the nineteen year old took one last leap between rooftops, this was it. Landing poorly on his ankle, he felt it collapse from underneath him. Yelling out in pain, he slid backwards, going off of the rooftop. Grabbing a Bowie knife from a pocket near his left shoulder, he plunged it into the rooftop, saving him...for now. Suspended over the busy streets below, he held on for dear life, fingers starting to slip from the handle of the knife. Mustering up his last bit of strength, he called out, "SAM!!!"

Light, agile, quick – they were just small factors that were taken into consideration as the girl had sprinted down the busy intersection. People flowed, but she moved with the heartbeat; the pupil in her eyes were widen, adrenaline pumping: she was going to get away, at all cost. A hand grasped a moving cart, the legs pulled up, coasting over it if only for two seconds – Sam began to feel as if she could fly. Controlled breaths were pumped out of her chest, keeping at a fast momentum – running was the one thing she enjoyed, like her former days in track school. It had only been six months, but the time spent in the Homeland was the greatest. The long wide trails and open roads, pavements, cements, dirt – it didn’t matter the ground, it just sent and overall free feeling.

It helped that she was only carrying a two-pound pistol and a clip of ammo. The agent began to perspire, but her outfit kept her cool, small tightly tied tennis shoes kept weight off her ankle. She erred though, crossing the section as she dove out from the crowd that was at a standstill – a heavy truck was coming at her and her heart sank, her mind telling her body to move. The screeching of the brakes and horns hit her, the vehicle clipping her as she pushed away from it – hitting the cement hard, cutting flesh. Her knees, hand and chin was slightly scrapped, but in moments time she was back; savoring the pain – it meant she was still alive. Once more the girl was on the run, cutting down an alleyway to save time, she leaped off the trashcan, hand reaching like a gymnast for a balance beam and caught the end of the bar.

Pulling herself up, she grasped the other handle and ascended, knees touching the rails until she stopped, turned and fired two shots at the bolts. With a hard kick it began to fall and she paused – sweetly, breathing slightly heavy and pained as she saw the young man round the corner. He was fast, but not fast enough and that concerned her – remembering how quick minded Elijah could think. The clanks of aluminum threatened to give way as she ran, hoping from one roof to the next, leaping and with a hard roll, she tucked her body in – shoulder striking the ground first as she curled up and stopped. Picking herself up she stopped – the open street was below: a dead end.

“SAM!” His voice, panic, rushed at her and she breathed heavy, looking back once then at the ground, once more in his direction – catching sight of his hands. Freedom lay just one leg breaking jump away, but it was the cost of Elijah’s life that was in her hands. With somewhat of a biting regret, she winced and ran in his direction, sliding along her thigh that would no doubt, later turn into another bruise. Skin touched concrete and her arm was thrust over the edge, catching his forearm as his knife lost the grip. He was heavy in comparison, more muscle – less mass, a sort of dead weight and for Samantha who had played down her strength was now currently the only thing holding Elijah from a crippled life or death.

Instead, she pulled him up a part of the way and when he had grabbed at the edge, her hands tucked under his pits, pushing away with her lower body to yank him up the rest of the way. Instantly she fell back, him on top of her, too exhausted to even care – she exhaled, heavily, feeling as the pain began to settle in. Everything hurt – her ribs, knees and hands, the pain in her chest was more physical than emotion, but it played a part. Even so, Sam had managed to conceal most of it, with the exception of the sweat that gleamed on her revealing exhaustion. It was the sort of training that Trinity didn’t offer – that foreign sense of fighting ability and strength. Most of the women in the division were relied upon espionage, but all the traits for Revlon were different.

Too banged up to care, she waited till he rolled aside and sat up, teeth clenching tightly as that sharp pain plunged into her side and rolled up her spine. She wanted to pass out at the sensation, but merely hung her head, shoulders relaxing. Currently, she didn’t have words at the moment.

Friction lost, gravity won. Elijah Walker felt the familiar falling sensation take over, this was surely the end... suddenly the sensation stopped. Was he daydreaming? Samantha's hand had caught his forearm, his heavier weight difficult for her to hold. This was no dream, she had heard his cry and had come to the rescue! Taken back by her action, he felt himself being pulled up by what must have been her last reserves of strength. Feeling her hands under his armpits, he was delivered to safety by his savior. Her strength failing, he fell on top of her, shaking arms stabilizing himself from landing on her already bruised and beaten body.

Everything had happened so fast, first she had been revealed to be a double agent, then she had fled, injuring Paul, and Elijah had made chase. Not expecting a chase like this in his wildest dreams, he was truly grateful and thankful to have her as a friend, even if her past had caught up with her. To him, she was no different in his eyes, she was still the same, unpredictable girl he had encountered back in Argentina. Leaning down, he gave her a kiss on her forehead, and whispered to her, "Thank you, for everything." Rolling off of her onto all fours, he put an arm beneath her upper back and the other arm beneath her legs. Lifting her up, he stabilized himself, moving away from the edge. "Sam, it's okay, you can close your eyes. I guarantee you will receive proper medical attention soon." Torn between taking her away from Trinity, leaving it all together, and returning back to the two Agents, the latter won out. They said they only wanted to question her didn't they? Elijah felt that much more could transpire, but he thought about Sam, what was best for her. Her physical condition was not good, she need professional help, and Trinity boasted one of the best medical centers he knew of. The teen made his decision.

Removing his cell phone from his pocket, which was still in one piece, he called the main Trinity headquarters secure phone line. He requested Eric's number. Putting him through, he heard two rings before the Trinity agent picked up. Speaking at a fast, nervous pace, he said, "Elijah is that you?" Holding the phone's mic close, he responded, "Affirmative, this is Walker. I have our runner." Resting for a short while to recover some energy, he carefully made his way down from the rooftops, finally making his way to the ground. Carrying Sam's unconscious body, he rendezvoused with Eric and Paul. Getting picked up a few hours later by air support, the four of them left Panama behind, headed North to the United States.

Trinity Headquarters - Five Stories Underground - 1800 hours - Three Days Later

On a bed, hooked up to a machine, Sam lay. Needles in her arm, fluids were pumped into her. On a variety of flat screen displays, numerical data and waves were shown, along with the occasional LED flash of light and beep. Her wounds cleaned and bandages applied where needed, she was making a full recovery. Still lost to the world in her unconscious state, she looked like an angel. Standing by at the door, was a single guard, armed with a Universal Machine Pistol (UMP). He was posted there to keep anyone out that did not have access, but mainly to keep Sam in and detained, as she was a double agent and was not to be trusted. Wearing a thin mask, his identity was not easily identified.

Standing guard, motionless, his eyes tracked a nurse who had just entered the room. Without a word exchanged between them, the nurse checked a few instruments and display screens, satisfied, then left, off to more patients. Alone with her, the guard left his post and approached her, holding his sub-machine gun down at his right side. The name on the front pocket read, 'Ryan Peterson.' Through the eye slits in the mask, his green eyes could be seen, it was Elijah. When Elijah had arrived with her, he had requested eagerly to be the guard for her room, which was declined, the reason being that his previous experience with her could cause hesitation and failure. Stuck at a roadblock, he made his own detour, bribing the chosen guard with a months salary. Now, unknown to any of the higher ups, he was in the room with her, watching over her, thinking about what would become of his friend.

The road to an awaken state was long an arduous – a simple three days had passed by, but her dreams had made it seem longer. Consciousness came in steps; sounds and blurs, followed by an intense sensitivity to light left her confused as to where and what day it was. Not to mention that she woke to an over zealous guard who was pepping down on her.

Like a child that had been disturbed during its nap, she sat up slow, her lip curling. “Don’t hover over me like that,” her words bolted out – argumentative from the get go. She looked at him through her lashes, finding his face unrecognizable but familiar. Defensive, she took the sheet that covered her and pulled it to her chest. “Pervert, you didn’t look – did you?!” There wasn’t time enough to respond and when his hand gestured to reach out to her – she yelled, deliberate, ‘Nurse!’ The matronly medical woman had entered quickly, eyes narrowing in as the vital signs were up through the roof. She had thoroughly given the guard the third degree – as Samantha had stuck her tongue out while the woman’s head was looking away.

Her legs went over to the side, sitting up as she glanced over at herself to secure her findings. She was barefoot, but with soft light green shorts and a gentle tee. With one lift she saw the bandages had been done and her hair, during her sleep-state had been braided over the shoulder; if only to keep it out of the way. She assumed it was the head nurse – who always held a soft spot when Samantha was entered in. It was better than waking up in a simple hospital gown, but then again this was Trinity who could afford to have all the bells and whistles.

For the most part she was feeling a lot better – if anything, she only lacked the energy and the uncertainty to trust in her own legs. If she stepped out – would she end up on the floor or would it hold her weight? “How long have I been out Maddie?” She questioned the Nurse who had looked up, in the process of removing the equipment.

“Three days love and that’s counting nights too. It’s six o’ clock and my shift ends in an hour - so until then don’t make any trouble for me,” she threatened and finished up to leave and inform the doctor. It was on her passing through the hallway that she shot the guard one more look and turned away when two officials escorting one larger individual began to walk down the hall. Securing the room they had rushed in and Samantha, let out a heavy sigh.

“Well now, since our sleeping beauty finally awoke, maybe she can tell us what we all are dying to know,” his voice was hard and she watched the other two stiffen, dressed in matching suits – black shades. She turned her gaze to the iron hard veteran, with salt and pepper hair – a thick jaw and eyes that steeled themselves against the young woman.

“Don’t speak to me like I’m some animal,” she retorted – childish and one agent, had snickered but choked to cover it up. Grinning, she pulled a leg up and wrapped her arms around it, lips falling to the side in a doe-of a smile. “I’m different than your trained monkeys,” she was arguing with him – his blood pressure was clearly rising by the thick veins in his neck that tightened up. The other two at his side weren’t grinning now and it was clear – in less than five minutes she had ticked off all three of them. They were growing hotter by the second; wanting nothing more than to rush her back into a coma.

“You will refer to me as Commander, Samantha, I am still your superior and you will talk, one way or another,” his voice was taut, the tension in the room escalating and her gaze went to the guard – his weapon, finding that he was more alert than she gave him credit for when he secured it at his side. That closed out one window, but another would rise, if she sought it out hard enough.

“Elijah won’t let you hurt me,” she retorted, baseless, but he sought to close that window of hope.

“Elijah’s not here – he couldn’t stand the sight of your betrayal and left. Which is what we, at Trinity should have did and have you executed on sight…” His voice lingered but the threat didn’t feel like it was real. The words still held an impact though, obviously striking her harder than a fist would have.

“You don’t know him!” She exploded, out of bed and the guards were at her side, holding her arms, but it was only for the better as a surge of dizziness swam over her.

“You feel that? That’s a sedative because if its one thing we do know, its how you are – childish and immature, this old monkey is a lot wiser than you give him credit for.” He flicked his hand and they had eased her back to the bedside. “We’ll talk later; I’ve got your mess to clean up.” And with that finishing sentence, he walked away – the other two turned to look and followed suit, taking the tension with them.

With no one around the girl had groaned, throwing her face into the pillow and screamed – it wasn’t as if Elijah could see her temper tantrum. That calm collected killer was now frustrated to the points of tears, but she was pensive about crying. Instead her bangs were slightly frazzled; cheeks pink and the corner of her lashes were slightly wet. The harder she rubbed at the corner of her eyes with her palms, the darker the color went and eventually, with a few sniffles, she was quiet.

“Ryan,” she spoke toward the guard –recalling his name tag. “Ryan, don’t be mean, don’t ignore me too…” She could see that shoulder tighten, his body language hard to read. “Don’t you have any candy? I’m hungry and the food here tastes like butt,” she paused briefly, thinking about it. She never did like their food.

"Elijah’s not here – he couldn’t stand the sight of your betrayal and left. Which is what we, at Trinity should have did and have you executed on sight…" Little did the Commander know, that Elijah Walker was hidden in plain sight. Dressed in the guard's uniform, face concealed, he listened to every word. Angered at the execution reference, he continued to listen, not showing any external signs of caring about the interrogation. Sam on the other hand, made an external display, shouting with an aggressive tone, "You don’t know him!"

At her reaction, the guards restrained her. When their brutish hands touched her soft skin, Elijah almost lost it, taking his finger from indexing and applying it to the trigger, drawing his UMP half way up. Stopping, thinking more rationally, he lowered his weapon and took his finger off of the trigger. Right then, he was so close to killing the guards, it scared him, only briefly, until he reminded himself that he was a killer, and now a protector of the only thing in this world he cared about, her. Never had he felt this way, he was willing to throw it all away, his title as an agent, for this one girl. He wondered what his dad would have said, that is, if he was still around.

Watching on the side lines, he saw the Commander tell her that he had put her on a sedative, to keep her more under control. Shortly after, he left the room, followed by his personal guards, leaving Elijah alone with her. Maintaining a still composure, hidden beneath the mask, a passerby might easily mistake him for a statue. Staring out through the eye holes, he watched her in her hurt state of being. Groaning and crying, hiding her face in her pillow, Elijah had never seen this side of her taken to this level. Back on the shores of Thailand was minor in comparison to this. He wanted to reveal himself, but didn't want to involve himself at the wrong time.

Fortunately for him he didn't have to choose the time. "Ryan," she said, in his general direction. At first Elijah didn't recognize that she was directing the name at him, having forgotten the name on his own tag. "Ryan, don’t be mean, don’t ignore me too…" Feeling stupid for not recognizing her addressing him, he hesitated at first, then looked over his shoulder, making sure the coast was clear. With short, consistent steps, he approached her, trying to hide any body language that would allow him to be found out. She said, drugged, "Don’t you have any candy? I’m hungry and the food here tastes like butt."

Holding back a laugh, he stayed silent. Holding his left hand and UMP at his side, while raising his right hand, he held his pointer finger up, as if telling her one second. Reaching into a pocket, then another, he shrugged, unable to find what he was looking for. Then, he secured his sub-machine gun at his hip, holding both hands up in front of him, then pointing to Sam. Moving his right hand toward her face, he reached behind her ear and pulled out a small item. A Hershey's kiss. Offering it to the young lady in an open palm, he said, "It's not wise to take candy from strangers."

Removing his mask with his free hand, his green eyes stared at her black eyes. "But I'm no stranger." Her face lit up, surprised no doubt to see him, changing to one of being slightly embarrassed that he had seen her act out her anger and sadness. Reaching into one of his pockets again, one that he had already checked, he removed a small pouch filled with chocolate kisses, giving it to her. "I'm sorry if they were too harsh." Sitting down on the bed next to her, he offered to put an arm around her, in an attempt to comfort her downed state.

After a short time had passed, he wanted to help her out of her sedated state. Holding a needle filled with yellow liquid in his hand, he offered it to her. "I happen to have some connections around here, believe it or not. This is a chemical that neutralizes the sedative, clearing up the effects within minutes." On the verge of asking her about, well, being a double agent and all, he stopped, hearing footsteps down the hall. Reapplying his mask and taking his place, at the guard post in the room, he suddenly realized something. A camera, no, two cameras, overhead, watching the whole time. Mouthing the words, "wait here," Elijah turned to the door.

Slipping past the doctor in the hall, he left Sam alone, and hastily walked to the control room. Knocking on the door, he heard a commotion inside, followed by the door opening. Trying to talk in a deeper voice, so as not to be identified, Elijah lied, "I'm here to re-leave you of your position." The tired guard, who had been sleeping, looked at the time. "Twenty minutes early? Bout time they let me off early...have at it Ryan." Nodding, letting the man go, Elijah entered into the room and looked at the many display screens, two of which were on the room that held... Sam was gone! Elijah quickly erased the memory of the last ten minutes of the cameras in that room, then disabled them altogether. An alarm would soon sound, he had to find her, they had to get out. Elijah and Sam were five stories underground in one of the most secure locations in the United States, if not the world...

The guard had finally come to his senses – responding with a motioning on the hands. When all looked lost – he surprised her by producing a small piece of candy and then another unsettling revelation that followed Elijah’s antic. Those green eyes, as fierce as they had looked behind a mask – were the same ones that dotted on her. Gentle and reassuring, she felt her body grow flush – having a complete honest reaction; one she chalked up to the drugs as Samantha was hiding her emotions poorly. The heat crept up her neck and a light blush had dusted her cheeks, eyes tottering away from that handsome mug who only sought to console her.

Way to go Sam, she chided herself mentally, knowing full well that by now Elijah had seen it all. She scrounged for words to put into sentences, but at best she ended up with a slight gape, lips faintly parted. Those dark hues went up, trailing from his knee, to waist and the extension of that hand that handed her a syringe with yellow fluid. She connected her gaze with his momentarily as he all but nonchalantly mentioned he had connections.

Of course he did – he wasn’t well…She didn’t know the words to define it and listened as he apologized on Trinity’s behalf. Instead the younger agent glanced at his fleeting back as something else came to his attention and when that tall frame had cleared the door – it was staring back at her. The camera; it had seen it all and risked exposure for Elijah – which made sense as Samantha began to connect the dots. Swartz had denied Elijah ever being present and seeing as if the big cheese didn’t consent – it meant that partner of her had pulled some crazed-move to get there.

Those eyes glanced once more to the needle and swallowed dryly, before depositing it in the container. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him – but her small unpracticed fear of sharp objects still held a reign on her. The last thing she wanted was more medical junk and with one thought slipping into her mind – the woman moved, quickly. With a few haphazard steps, her shoulder fell upon the wall, sliding against the plaster as she walked – until her steps grew steadier by the minute. Standing in front of the machine, her gaze went to the acidic, artificial sweeteners, bouncing between brands like Coke – Pepsi – Orange and other pop sodas. A slim thumb had run over the large white buttons, eyes tracing over each letter, word, but her mind was elsewhere.

Questions filled her mind – the depth and dark lines that traced her eyes and lashes made the young girl look a little worn and weary-minded. Those pink lips were slightly paled as her free hand flicked that small chocolate candy between her fingers, muttering the names off the drinks. Lost in thought – she briefly recalled the warmth of when Elijah’s arm had encircled her and how for those few brief moments – it comforted her, knowing then that she was falling for him.

Maybe he already knew, maybe he didn’t – she couldn’t put it past her partner to outthink her; like the first time they had met he had already rigged the place with high plastic explosives. There was no telling what he couldn’t do and that unforeseen trait gave the young male a dangerous edge. It was necessary though, it was what kept him alive for so long and without so many partners.

Everyone of them must have underestimated him and apart of her felt lucky because she knew from the get-go she assumed he was nothing more than some hot shot, but unlike the rest had managed to survive. He was at her side now and when he had gotten there, she was unsure of, her responses slow. Hoping that he hadn’t picked up on the delay from the sedatives, Revlon was hoping he’d only assume it was fatigue. “I got thirsty…” She remarked and selected Orange then went to retrieve the cold can. Pressing it to her warm cheek, she smiled briefly and motioned toward the lounge. “The alarm will sound otherwise if the cameras can’t see me,” holding up the thin plastic band around her wrist – the hospital marker, seemed to hold an LED that flashed at that camera, giving her location away. So long as she stayed in the lounge or her room, there wouldn’t be a rise for trouble: she wasn’t planning on running.

When they had reached the lounge, she stole a seat on the cushion, her back pressed against the cool wall. The pop and sizzle sound went off as she cracked open the drink and took a slight taste, patting the blue cushion beside her. When he finally agreed, Sam had handed him her drink, marking – “I owe you one, remember?” For the most part the sedatives were wearing off, but she wasn’t in a rush to be fully alert. Swartz and Trinities men were still around – looming with every intent to show up, it was just when, she wasn’t sure.

For now though – she was enjoying her exclusive, borrowed time with Elijah, eyes looking to the flat screen as the news began to discuss some propaganda between UK and Prussia. In the end, it just became background noise – like a small filter. With one arm wrapping around her leg that she had pulled up to her chest, she looked back toward his direction and studied him. His gaze was alert – scanning and surveying objects and passing people out of habit, his shoulders sat natural like a soldier at standing attention, with calm and controlled breathes. His mind seemed to be the biggest talent as it engaged information and disengaged it and Sam perhaps figured he was running different scenarios through his mind – right then and there.

“You aren’t thinking about trying to rescue me, are you?” Her lips curled into a grin, she couldn’t fight it – Elijah could be just about the most interesting man she had met. His thoughts seemed to halt as she threw him a wild card, teasing, “Or perhaps you want to kidnap me?” And question me, but she didn’t state the latter. That grin vanished and she reached out deciding she wasn’t going to give him the advantage and recover with a coy remark. With her fingertips trailing along his wrist and the space in between his knuckles, she held a firm grasp on that gloved hand, touching, lacing them with her palm on top of his. It was larger than hers, but common sense had told her that when weapons failed he could rely on physical strength to overpower an enemy, to strangle the life out of them – a feat she couldn’t afford unless the element of surprise was on her side and even then it was difficult.

“That janitor keeps pacing, maybe he’s not a janitor, maybe he’s a threat – whose managed to get this far,” her eyes were trained to his face, to try and read his discernment – knowing full aware of how alert he could be. “His right pocket looks a little heavy, maybe those aren’t keys, and perhaps it’s a weapon.” Her gaze went over her shoulder to watch the janitor’s actions – as the older man paused and looked at them for a lengthy time. Slowly his hand traveled and Sam spoke again, building up the story to a larger possibility, painting pictures, “He’s reaching for it –he knows that we know or does he? Is he a civilian…?” The jingle of his keys sounded and Sam broke into a full smile, the laughter was clear in her eyes.

“You can relax you know, I do need my fingers,” she marked as she felt the tension of his hand squeeze at that finale moment, clearly the other on the trigger of his UMP. When his grip eased, she pulled her hand away – clearly still amused, but more so apologetic; she had had fun at his expense. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist, it’s not every day you get a Walker to jump through hoops.” And live to tell about it. With her free hand she had rubbed at the corner of her eyes before fully eloping with her part of the couch, leaning into it tired, her happiness fleeting as her heart grew heavy with serious thoughts.

“You know at the time, it seemed like a good idea to be a double agent – double the benefits, double the safety net, but I kind of regret it now. I should have told you is what I want to say, but maybe I shouldn’t run away from this – if I talk to Trinity, they won’t kill me… Will they?”

Instead of what he originally thought, Sam had not tried to run away, she was only thirsty and wanting a more comfortable place to reside. Not wanting to argue with her, he complied and accompanied her, as he was her 'assigned' guard, to a lounge. Taking a seat on it beside her, she offered him the rest of her carbonated soft beverage, "I owe you one, remember?" Grinning at her remark, he thought of how he had wanted the last drink of his Cola at the time. Taking it with three fingers and a thumb wrapped around the bottle, with his pinky under the bottom of it, an old habit from a past experience of dropping his drink, he said, "How could I forget?" Downing the rest of the fizzy soda, he set the empty bottle down on the floor beside where they were seated. "Now we are even." A short time passed between them, both in thought, until Sam broke the silence.

"You aren’t thinking about trying to rescue me, are you?" Funny she should ask, as that and many other thoughts went through his mind. Elijah had planned for a rescue, plotting out the precise path through every hall, elevator, all while evading the view of the cameras, not about to repeat the mistake he made prior. While he was dwelling on the subject she said, "Or perhaps you want to kidnap me?" Not wanting to admit it, he had thought of that possibility, not that he would ever allow himself to execute such an action against her. Not finding the right words to reply, he said in a broken sentence, with a slight smile on his face, "I...thought many things...through."

While he was thinking Sam had walked her fingers over his arm, ending up lacing her fingers with his gloved hand. Elijah loved the feeling her her hand and his together, even if they were separated by material restricting their touch. Taking the opportunity to give him ideas, as he would be more open to listening in his analytic state of mind, she pointed out the janitor, who was just doing his job. Or was he? To any onlooker, the would see a janitor that was not threat, but as Sam hinted toward possibilities, the pacing, the heavier pocket... the gears in Elijah's mind turned, deciphering the raw data he took in, predicting different possibilities through past experience and educated assumptions.

A part of him wanted to eliminate the possible threat, before the janitor in disguise could launch an attack... Her words set him straight, "You can relax you know, I do need my fingers." Without realizing it he had tightened his hand, tightening her fingers between his. Releasing the tension in his hand, he returned his grip with hers to the same comfort level they had before, that is, if she was still willing to hold onto his hand. Before he could respond, she said, "Sorry, I couldn’t resist, it’s not every day you get a Walker to jump through hoops." Elijah smiled, never ceased to be amazed by her ability to find his weaknesses.

Sam appeared to be fatigued, her mood changing from a happy one to a more serious one. "You know at the time, it seemed like a good idea to be a double agent – double the benefits, double the safety net, but I kind of regret it now. I should have told you is what I want to say, but maybe I shouldn’t run away from this – if I talk to Trinity, they won’t kill me… Will they?" Her fingers laced with his gloved hand, he thought about what she said, "It's never too late to be honest." Hypocritical in his words, as he was pretending to be Ryan, being dishonest to the agency around him, his agency, Trinity.

Coming up with a response backed with no reason to prove it valid, he said, "No, I don't think they will kill you." He wanted to give her better news, but he had a bad feeling about this. A double agent who's past was uncertain to Elijah, and had performed a hit and run one of Trinity's own, he did not see much of a chance at her getting out of this against Swartz. It was time to drop the act, he was in this with her, his fate would be hers. After all, she had been his partner for over three months time, he knew her better than anyone in Trinity. "Forget what I just said." Difficult for him to say in a nice way, he said it bluntly, "The truth is...I believe there is chance they will kill you." Holding her laced fingers in his, he told her what needed to be done. "Interrogation is soon, and if the verdict ends up not being in your favor, I will join you."

Footsteps could be heard, Swartz and his men entering into the louge. Shortly before Elijah had let go of her hand and risen to his feet, taking a few steps away from the couch to give the false appearance that he was on duty. The time of reckoning drew near.

The room was big, cold with a damp feeling as leaky pipes had soaked the walls with drips of water. Poor plumbing had left an old stagnant smell and the occupants consisted of five – Ryan, Swartz, Samantha, Erick and the Interrogator.

He was a middle-aged man, well into his late forties with facial scarring and dark eyes that nearly matched hers. They steeled themselves against the woman, jaw set firmly in place and a large physical build from prior years before: he was an experienced retired agent, whose specialty consisted of breaking the finest agents. The suit he wore was formal, but the dinner jacket was missing and in it stead of appearance, white sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing thick forearms. Aside from Swartz himself, the man looked like an imposing potential threat that even Elijah would struggle to win against.

“My name is Cloyd Vanguard, otherwise known as ‘The Guard.’ Think of me as a translator if you will – I will ask you something and then you will answer,” he spoke lightly, eyes trailing up the length of Samantha’s smaller frame, sizing her up. “And I will tell the Boss if you are lying, do you understand?” He paused and when she nodded, solemnly, his gaze went away and toward the tape recorder pressing record. A single light fixture was above, casting shadows over that dark hair that framed her face.

Her legs were hugged close to her, toes curling at the edge of the chair, an arm wrapped around them as she sat waiting for the questions. They began with her name and to which she replied with ease, “I am Samantha Revlon, but… Before then my brother called me ‘Lucy’,” the young girl had sighed as the Cloyd had chimed in.

“That’s Latin for light; he must have been taken to you?” His eyebrow perked, reading her facial expressions that drew cold for a moment.

“Sure, he said my Mother wanted that name, but I couldn’t ask him – seeing as your agent killed him, in front of me,” her words bit at the man, who leaned back in his chair, soaking it in.

“Walker - quite the marksman, you were what, seven? Just like the man to leave behind loose threads,” he tossed aside, referring to her. “So is that what you wanted with the Walker’s kid? Revenge?”

The young girl had bit down at her bottom lip painfully, glaring with a hurt-filled expression; she wasn’t going to let them get the best of her, but the minutes were passing on. With fatigue and emotions spreading her thin, she snapped. “I did you a favor – Sam was weak, he was already trading passwords for diamonds – he would have died, eventually,” she spoke of the prior soldier who was originally supposed to meet Elijah.

“We know,” he stated coldly, his lofty gaze meeting hers, that was surprised. “Eventually Elijah would have got the order to terminate Sam.”

Those dark hues glanced down at the socks she wore – knowing full well she had walked into that one. The man was gloating now, going on in a full discussion of what was intended – that the original Sam would have led them to the sellers, but now all that was royally screwed because of her. The slight rant started then, drifting between the lines of loyalty to the state and loyalty to Trinity – but by then, Samantha had checked out.

This place was cold and she wanted nothing more than a warm bed to rest, away from the harsh words and judgmental stares. Apart of her had questioned if Elijah’s offer was part-way on the table or if he had a change of heart as more of her secrets were exposed. That warm hand was the only thing she could remember now and her hand closed to a small fist, she felt hot. The questions grew serious now – they were demanding that she tell them who her first employers were, how she knew of Sam, the meet-up as well as Elijah’s location. She had secrets of Trinity and it made them uncomfortable – clearly the division had many enemies and an unknown one with resources hadn’t made things better.

If the verdict ends up not being in your favor, I will join you.

It was easier, so much easier to stand strong – when she didn’t have anyone else welfare to think about. All she had to do was be accounted for was for her mistakes, but now it was lonely and the temptation to draw Elijah in was growing larger. On one level – she would be ruining a young man’s chance of ever having a safe life as well as opportunity to make a name for himself. With Trinity he could surpass his father, become a legend – she saw, what they saw as well.

“Answer me, Lucy!” A fist banged on the desk, jaw tight as the sound made the girl jump slightly.

She grimaced instead – reluctant to even show such a fevered face, eyes shutting to the sensitivity of light and sound. For all the times she had barked at Elijah for being too soft with her, she dreaded to show such a weak look. Leaning against the table, she propped herself up on that elbow – slouched and unrefined in posture. Her knuckles pressed into her cheek, eyes glaring at the man who still spewed with questions.

“You want to know who it is I work for…? Haven’t you guessed already?” She questioned, knowing it was making the man tick. “Whoever said, my brother was dead?” Yes there had been a body at the time of discovery, but bodies could be duplicated and reproduced. “When Walker saw me, he couldn’t pull the trigger, but when I had the same opportunity…I couldn’t do the same to his son,” she murmured, but given the silence in the room – her voice was heard.

“Your brother is… Alive?!” His hands threw down at the table, nearly knocking the girl over. “Secure the building, he’s probably sent men for her!” a score of explosions went off, the dust falling off the ceiling as the building was rocked, they were four floors up.

“Too late,” she retorted, feeling a hand grab at her bicep hard enough to bruise. It all but yanked her up as she was thrown toward the guard – to Ryan who had caught her with anticipation.

“Keep an eye on her while we handle this mess, soldier!” The Interrogated barked, ushering them out of the room.

Reflexes taking over, Ryan caught Sam with both arms, "accidentally" ending up holding her close. Their eyes met, the first time since this interrogation had started. Those blacks met his greens. Her eyes were filled with sadness and regret, among other things. The disguised Elijah was unable to show any facial expressions, hidden behind his mask, only his eyes showing how he felt. The pain he felt, bypassing the nerves he had been trained for so long to suppress, bled from his green eyes.

A mix of concern for her and of the realization of her original intentions. Every time they questioned her, pressuring her harder, the barriers on his will eased away, a voice in his head whispering to him to simply kill the threat. How he wanted to let his emotions guide him, but his partially clear thinking mind told him otherwise. A part of him that was thinking clearer thought about how he had her original intentions wrong. Ever since she had been found out as a double agent, he had the false idea that her mission was to get inside Trinity. He was the target...he put this at the back of his mind to analyze at a later time. In addition to the previous thoughts, he felt for the first time utter distaste in Trinity's decision to pair him up with the guy Sam in the first place, as he was reduced to a tool, fit only to further Elijah's cause, Trinity's cause.

Eyes parting, mind pausing, he loosened his hold on her, letting her turn around to face the three others, Elijah was commanded, "Keep an eye on her while we handle this mess, soldier!" Responding to the Interrogator with a clear and crisp, "Yes sir!" At once they left the room, Swartz, Eric, and the Interrogator split from Elijah and Sam. Alone and together once again. When his eyes had met hers previously, Elijah had seen her concern for her brother's men. Stumbling over his words, he said meaningfully, "Sam...I mean Lucy...it killed me watching them treat you that way." He paused, thinking about his destination in mind, then continued. "I promise to escort you to your rescuers."

He led her to where the real Ryan Peterson was staying and knocked on his door. Unaware of the current situation, by the blaring of the obnoxious television in Ryan's room, the guard opened the door. A hand covered Ryan's mouth as the guard inhaled knockout gas. Elijah let him down to the floor slowly, then carried him inside his room and dressed Ryan in his own guard clothes. The gas had the trace of a hallucinogenic drug to discredit anything Ryan said about Elijah after he had woken up. The nineteen year old didn't feel bad about his actions, he was doing what had to be done.

Leaving the room, Elijah was dressed in a dark colored, tight fitting outfit that he had been wearing underneath Ryan's suit. Elijah wore two Colt 1911's, one strapped at the side of each hip. He un-holstered one, flipped it around, and offered it to Sam. Giving her the best smile under an intense situation he could conjure up, he said, "Thank you for not going through with your assignment in Argentina. I...trust you with my life." A short moment of silence passed between them, before Elijah changed the topic, to the one at hand four floor above them. "We must hurry, both sides are about to have many casualties." Leading her through a secret maze which consisted of hidden tunnels, ladders, stairs and service elevators, they wound up in the ventilation system on their floor.

Bullets rang out, the firefight had just begun! Agents on both sides were dropping dead, this had to stop... Elijah made a bold move, a crazy action that all his intuition told him was suicidal. He kicked open the grate in front of him and ran out in the middle of the firefight, with his hands raised high in the air. Without his armor, he would have been a dead man in the first second. His tight suit took tens of bullets, the advanced armor cushioned the bullets impact damage to hard bruises. One bullet snagged the back of his left ear, tearing it in half at the middle. Arms continued to be raised high, the gunshots stopped. His distraction had given Sam enough time to exit the grate he had emerged from and regroup with the men who had come to rescue her.

Bleeding internally from some of the bullet impacts, his legs felt uneasy, causing him to fall down on his knees. The leader of the assaulting force saw that Sam had been recovered, and ordered for them to pull back and out. Shots fired back up, more lifeless bodies covered the ground as the offensive force did a full out retreat. Falling backwards on the floor, Elijah turned his head to the side and looked out at the side opposing Trinity. Where was she? Unable to find her for over thirty seconds, his heart leaped when he saw her, safe, leaving with her rescue squad. As the gunfire stopped and Swartz approached, Elijah knew he was in serious trouble.

Why? Why was she hesitating? It was the right decision – noble at the very least; his future would be momentarily secured without her, if he didn’t die today. Biting at the inside of her bottom lip she looked at him – his face unreadable, hidden by the thin black mask. Curious she wondered what expression he wore – disdain, hate? Those bright green eyes were hard to read and reluctantly, she looked away as he stood at attention to the order. The world around her was ethereal, disillusioned by a high fever and mixed emotions; she was ready to confess her inner thoughts when his words hit her.

“You don’t have to…” Was all she managed before a hand had pulled her, guiding her toward a brief interlude. Changed out of the guard gear and into a black body suit – the young woman’s gaze voiced her allure to the unaware Elijah. Even with the current crisis – Sam noted that Elijah held a knack for always looking so… able-bodied, in any environment.

Taking the stairs and hidden loopholes they came to a halt, her, crashing into his backside briefly as he gauged the inevitable. He wasn’t really thinking about…?! “Elijah, no!” Her voice yelled, drowned out by the extreme amounts of heavy artillery. The assault riffles blared the loudest and Samantha was forced to run toward the opposing group – in order to secure a cease fire. Every nerve in her body was on high alert – wanting to run back to Elijah, to see if he was still alive. Glancing over her shoulder she could see Swartz checking on the young male who moved briefly. “Elijah… I have to go back, I have to –…” She started, pausing in step, but felt a firm hand grab with a bruising grip at her arm.

“We don’t have time for that!” He was yelling, his face was nearly in hers – eyes covered by optic shades and the digital markers that fluxed between readings. There were several other men with him, each with a stance unlike anything Samantha had seen before. They wore matching suits, though each build was primarily different and weapons that held infer-red power scopes or lasers; most of the attachments were out of the world costly. “Now you’re going to come with us, willingly,” a gold metal gun was thrust into her stomach, the barrel sliding against skin under her shirt. “Or I’ll put six holes in you and carry your half-dead corpse out of here,” the words made the hair on her neck stand and she nodded, quietly, noticing the red scorpion tattoo on his wrist. “That’s a good girl,” he spoke with an Australian accent.

“There’s just one thing,” she interrupted when he turned away and she saw the agitation cover him – turning back with a harsh ‘What now?’ response. Holding up a silver pin, she took two steps away, uttering a few simple words. “You will probably need this…?” A grin filled her lips as the other men stepped back and he fought to get his utility belt off that was around his waist. Running back toward the young male and Swartz, she was half way there when the impact tossed her – rolling on her side. Debris struck her side and she winced, curling up as she heard the words yell from the large amounts of smoke. ‘I’m gonna make you pay girlie!’

She moved then, looking back to see a few figures pull forth from the smoke, one was clutching the side of his face as a shallow cut above the forehead caused large amounts of blood to spill out. It gave her the momentary blindness to return to her partner’s downed size. She balanced and kneeled on one knee, a hand reaching toward her wounded partner, fingers lacing as she cradled the back of his head and pulled him closer to her. “GET UP!” Swartz had tried to stop her, yelling that Elijah was injured – needing medical treatment, but the woman simply glared and threw a fist on the spot where bullets had impacted the vest. “I don’t have time for you to play sleeping beauty today, Elijah! We’re in really hot water right now!” The tips of her fingers rested on one place of impact and with a sharp thrust, her knuckles made contact earning one growl out of the boy.

Swartz and herself had helped drag him out of sight, behind a door that led to the stairway momentarily as the heavy gunfire started again. They propped him up against a wall, seated while he came too. It wasn’t quick enough so she fired a round just beside his head to speed up the process and found that it had worked. He was on full alert attention; one hand had moved her gun out of the way while another was just nearly at her throat before he paused, stopping short of that kill hit when he realized it was her.

“What’s going on here, explain yourself Revlon!” Swartz barked and she looked over her shoulder at him briefly.

“Those are not my brother’s men; the diversion was them, but they wouldn’t use hostile force – seems we have someone else deciding to crash the party,” she used the palm of her hand that held the Colt 1911 to wipe the sweat from her brow. “They have scorpion tattoos inked red, I don’t know who they exactly are – he has a lot of enemies,” she muttered, holstering her weapon.

“You mean you have a lot of enemies too, Miss Revlon,” he corrected, mind working. When Samantha didn’t answer, he situated himself, breathing once. “I need to go to my men, there sitting ducks out there. Let’s just say for today I’ll turn a blind eye on the account of our new guest.” When she gave Swartz a confirming nod, he moved, lethal and crouched out the door – shutting it behind him. There were a few yells, but they weren’t Swartz’s voice; if anything it sounded like the opposition was the one facing the older man’s wrath.

Her mind was reeling, looking up at the stairs – which would bring the fight to a civilian level or further below where they could hole themselves in a bunker; which was suicide. They really where trapped, but with what time she had left and little options to run on, the girl sighed and took a seat next to him, sitting shoulder to shoulder. She threw her head back, staring up at the flickering light. “You’re an idiot, Elijah,” her dark gaze went to his surprised face. “Were you trying to die back there?” She held a serious face for as long as she could, but it broke and she laughed, lightly. “I’ve only been scared like that twice, once when I met your Father when I was younger – he and my brother were fighting and I woke up… Because I had a bad dream, I don’t know exactly why.” She turned to look over the Colt 1911, finger sliding along the metallic finish. “They stopped and he patted me on the head, said he had a son a few years older that he wanted me to meet – could see us being friends,” she grinned lightly at the irony and reached over to pat the top of his head, mimicking his father’s style.

“And the other time was just now, when I thought I lost you,” she took one of his hands in hers and placed the side of her cheek into it, cradling it. It smells of gunpowder, blood and a few callous from trained weapons – but it was warm and comforting, not at all the ideal hand, but it was Elijah’s. “I’m sure we’ll get out of this alive and when we do, I want to stay with you,” she spoke, but before she could finish the door had busted open. It was Eric, who looked distraught and surprised to see them.

“There you two are, Swartz has opened up a way to get you guys out, c’mon,” he rushed them, guiding them to the top where civilian agents were armed and ready. They followed him and she looked to Elijah, slightly surprised that things were coming along so easily. Except when they reached an empty hallway and there was a shift in the air. Something didn’t feel right and when she turned to look over her shoulder – she saw Eric clasping a hand over Elijah’s mouth, injecting a needle in the man’s neck as the resistance in him left.

“You traitor, you sold us out!” She spoke, harshly as he eased her partner’s body to the floor, chuckling.

“Well if that isn’t the pot calling the… You know, never mind, let’s just say these guys had a better offer on the table.” He aimed a tranq gun at her, one she shot out of his hand. He chuckled and she aimed it at him, expecting another quick move when a small black ball rolled between her feet from behind her. It cracked open and noxious purple fumes rushed out, hitting her in the face like a puff of wind.

“Wha…? I…” Exhaling, Samantha took a step back, legs buckling from the weight as a pair of hands caught her.

“Gotcha!” A suitcase was tossed forward, sliding at Eric’s feet. “Couldn’t have done this without ya, she’s almost more trouble than she’s worth – almost,” he grinned, that scorpion tattoo exposed. And like that, the men were withdrawing – the party, over.

Bang! Ears ringing from the pistol shot, Elijah sprang to life, instinctively moving the handgun out of the way while going for her throat. Before he dug his fingers into her neck, he realized she was Sam. Relaxing his hold, he let his arm fall down at his side. Propped up against a wall, he felt pain pulse through his nervous system, reminding him of his reckless rush into the crossfire. Head spinning with both mental and physical pain, he pieced together what must have transpired while he was out. Instead of his diversion enabling Sam a means to get away, it had kept her here. Predicting that the opposing force was not friendly, his thought was confirmed when Sam explained it to Swartz.

Lost in thoughts, he understood that his attempted heroic action was not only in vain, but extremely dangerous to both himself and Sam. He felt stupid, pathetic, and worthless. How could he have been so blind? It was saving life...it had been the root of the issue. The limited time he had, coupled with his assumptions based off of Swartz's words and Sam's confirmation, had tricked his mind into believing what he wanted to believe. Watching Sam and Swartz talk back and forth, then Sam directly to him, he could hardly understand any words they were saying. Elijah was too occupied with his conflicting thoughts and the ever present physical pain he was feeling.

Mind functioning again, he understood a complete sentence from her, "And the other time was just now, when I thought I lost you." After all this, despite his failure and the pressure it put on her, she still cared for him. Equally, if not more caring about her, Elijah had trouble showing it, especially in his handicapped state. All he could say in response was a quiet, "I'm sorry." Sam took his hand and rested her cheek in it, saying, "I’m sure we’ll get out of this alive and when we do, I want to stay with you." Her words touched his heart, warming it. For some time now he had felt this way but never felt open enough to express it...

"There you two are, Swartz has opened up a way to get you guys out, c’mon." Eric's voice mixed with his love struck state, causing his mind to not fully concentrate on either of them. Moving, with both Eric and Sam's help, to a safer location, his analytic thought processes engaged half way there. Something in Eric's voice, something was not right. A nervousness that Elijah had never heard before from Eric. Not one of honest anxiety, one more fitting of deception. Before he could say a word he felt a the prick of a needle enter the side of his neck. Elijah Walker's world faded to...

...black.

Three Years Later

A dirty, calloused hand brushed an old cobweb from an old door frame. A rusted doorknob on a weathered door would not open. Crash! Splinters of wood were scattered throughout the surrounding air as the door was kicked open by a thick soled, water treated, black leather boot. Ripping the now split door off of it's hinges, the scrap wood fell to the floor, inviting more dust to fill the air. Covering his mouth from the cloud of dust, the figure stepped inside and took a sweep of the interior. Nothing had changed, this outpost in Argentina had been vacant since the day he had left it, when he had first met her. Had it been three years since she had vanished? Elijah Walker bent down and picked up a leg of the table that had broken when he had sat on it so long ago. In a half-hearted attempt to re-stabilize the table, he lifted the broken side and propped it up with the leg. Testing the stability with a slight push from his knee, he stopped. Driving downward with his elbow onto the table, the old wood gave under his might, halving the old table. Yes, it had been three years...and not a trace of her.

The day he had woken after she was taken from him, he had been furious. Taking leave from Trinity, Elijah embarked on a journey that would take him around the entire world. Starting off with what money he had stored up, his funds soon diminished, forcing his progress to be much slower, even causing him to resort to stealing when necessary. Questioning countless people, using persuasion, blackmail and extortion, he found all the answers he could ever want...except one's involving Sam/Lucy. Not one to throw in the towel, he continued his search. Any leads that he found wound up as dead ends. Learning from every place he visited, Elijah's skill set increased significantly, even if he didn't realize it. Many times he was attacked, every time walking away from the scene, leaving a dead body for the authorities to clean up. Needless to say, he was done working with partners. A lone wolf, a killer for hire, he would take jobs here and there from various benefactors when the opportunity arose. Now, he had returned to the place where he had first met her, to say goodbye one last time. She was dead.

Walking outside the outpost, the rusty head of a wooden handled shovel dug into the earth with each motion. Exposed in the sunlight, the twenty two year old's face was clearly seen. Messy, unwashed hair that fell to his bushy eyebrows in front and halfway down his neck in back. Inch long sideburns connected to a full beard outlined his jawline. Dirty, oily skin on his war torn face had been uncleaned for days, if not weeks. His ears were not symmetrical about his face, his left one having been permanently damaged, split in half, from his reckless rush back at Trinity. But all of his facial features were dull in comparison to his brilliant green eyes. All traces of anything positive in them were gone, only showing sadness, pain, anger, and darkness. His outfit wasn't impressive, but his body was in a strong physical condition. Finished digging, he held an empty, shoebox sized, container with his hand. In it had carefully placed a picture of Samantha Revlon and one of the handguns she had used, that Elijah had held onto for these years.

Covering the container with a lid, he lowered himself down on his knees and set the container into the hole. Using both hands, he filled the hole with the fresh dirt, until it was completely filled in. Standing to his feet, Elijah packed the dirt down with his right boot, sealing her package away like a time capsule. On his belt, he removed a wooden cross that he had made from the scraps of wood from the broken table. Engraved in it, it read: 'R.I.P. Samantha Revlon - Partner and Friend.' Burying the sharp tip into the freshly packed soil, Elijah said out loud without any outward sign of sadness, "Your name will never be forgotten." Looking up to the stars in the sky, he thought about whether or not there was an afterlife, if he would meet her again.

Two Weeks Later

Night commanded the skies as the afternoon was overtaken by dusk. Sacred cattle wandered along the streets, untouched and undisturbed by the crowds of people walking along. This was Agra, India, home of one of the world's most recognizable landmarks, the Taj Mahal. Not everyone had sacred thoughts about the cattle however, one individual in particular wanted nothing more than taking a twelve gauge to one of the cattle's head, then cooking up some hamburgers. Back in action after his three year leave, Elijah Walker was now a part of Trinity again, working alone. Already having completed one mission, with nothing less than stellar results, he was assigned an assignment to assassinate a certain figure with too much power on his hands. Power corrupts even the most noble individuals, Elijah remembered hearing from his father, a long time ago.

Unlocking a window from the outside, Elijah silently moved into the Taj Mahal's upper level. Carrying a suppressed, Indian INSAS assault rifle, he hugged the walls, keeping his profile as hidden as possible. Letting guards on patrol pass by, the unnoticed assassin found the room he was looking for. Inside was one of the commanding powers in India, a leader who was on the verge of declaring war with the United States. The country of India had a greater population that any other country in the world, an all out war would be catastrophic. This threat could be averted with the intervention of one man tonight. When he took the shot, he would feel nothing but recoil. Elijah crept to the door, ready to break in.

Three years later…

The life that ‘Sam’ had lived under was just out of reach and while the current organization that housed her granted her mobility and freedom, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the growing adolescent. If she returned to Elijah – there was much that would have been jeopardized, not just in her safety, but his as well; they had made that much clear. Over time, days had turned into weeks and weeks into months before she ventured to return to the field at her own liking. Missions came and while none of them were forced, it came with added perks like hazard pay with incentives and special toys.

As the years progressed Lucy’s travel was extended a few rural areas at a time – until it switched to neighboring countries. It was clear though that they didn’t trust her – the eyes of a faceless stranger were always peering over behind their cup of coffee, just above from a wrist watch or through a payphone. Those extra lengthy stares and sudden recoveries were more than enough to say she was always watched.

Instead of losing her mind though – the girl had progressed into a younger woman, with a bickering five-seven to five-eight with heels sort of height. Her features were slightly more prominent now, with elongated curves and sculpted thighs that made her look more feminine. She relied less on her ability to overpower and more toward being able to lift herself into rafters or out of danger. Her physique was medium in build, something closer to a swimmer – but what drew others most to her was Lucy’s face. The dark, alluring eyes and full eyebrows as well as the black hair that remained unruly and wavy that framed her face. A craft of a smile often carved her into conversations, settings – to power figures who weren’t always political. It made it easy to slip a pill in their drink or pull an old widow-maker of a Smith and Wesson 1006 against the back of their skull. Time and again though Lucy had continued her kills though each one was growing more aggressive than the last.

Without a partner in the field, she felt a lack of responsibility to herself or another and it began to show. After two sprains, four broken fingers, a fractured bone and several bruised ribs – she was finally cleared with the exception of a few pain killers in her system. It was a bomb that had gone awry and slightly affiliated to terrorism. Which left her on her current hire – a man who was up for grabs, a few companies in the west wanted to make a statement; she was here for the highest bid. He was the third son of Dara ul-Kadir, a Persian native whose family ties were politics – he was nothing more than a leech, extorting power and making audacious threats to both his people and others. Arrogant the two-hundred and fifty pound man was just twenty pounds over half her size, leaving the 130 pound woman to take the opportunity of undoing her hair tie.

It was long and thick like a cord – with two silver weights that made it easy to swing around the man’s neck twice as Lucy had wrapped it around her wrist and tightened. His knees were kicked out from behind and when he buckled, she placed a foot in the square of his back, pulling tight to enclose the oxygen off that large throat. “In ten seconds your brain is going to be starved of air,” she squeezed on the ropes tighter as his fingers clawed and gashed at the cord trying to undo it – part of his weight was falling forward which only helped strangle him. If he had learned to lean back in the sure amounts of panic – he might have had an opportunity. “It’s been ten seconds, I say another two minute maybe minute and a half and you’ll eventually black out,” the force of her words were cold, but clear lacking any resentment or emotion. This wasn’t personal – this wasn’t even a thrill kill, it was just something she was becoming able to do easier now and it was that present lack of emotion that she paused.

He went unconscious and she sighed, releasing him and scooping over that limp body. A pair of slim hands went cupping his face and with a hard jerk to the right, a sickening crunch and protruding neck bone exposed – but for good measure and to ensure death, she jerked it left in a sharp downward motion; to find the doors opening at the wrong time.

That lifeless body was left to rot on the floor, cord in hand and her current black, form fitting pant and short sleeve attire didn’t exactly give her enough coverage from any weaponry. “I wasn’t expecting guest,” she narrowed her eyes on the dark figure, traces of a hard build had suggested he was military and given the old weaponry, ex-military. The gun was aimed at her and all her sights were focused on the barrel that pointed half-way across the room; as it was she had nothing to dive under or take cover: she was completely exposed. His face was cast in shadows, but he didn’t look the least bit welcoming and when he lowered it – briefly, she took her opportunity in his hesitation by tossing a smoke pellet at his chest.

The white pellet had went off with a puff of white smoke, enough to give the woman time to leap over the railing, using her cord to ease her down and dropping a few feet to touch cement. Sprinting partially through the clearing and toward the city – she paused to look back in the dark to see if her new guest had simply given up: to her surprise – he hadn’t and with a pace that seemed hell bent, her heart sank to her stomach.

“You persistent little…” She blurted sprinting toward the outer city as she felt that approach of death on her heels – even if currently, she was wearing thin flats. A few thoughts went through her head; either he was some loyal dog of a guard or he wanted that kill and was intent on claiming it by any means necessary… The city up ahead was fast approaching and Revlon had kicked off a small crate, leaping to grab the jagged edge of a wall before pulling upward and throwing her body with a small summersault over it. She took a spill into a pile of hay and was glad she remembered her escape route – pausing, she turned looking up and began to chuckle.

“Try and follow me now, all brawn's and no brains eh? Yeah, I win, you los--…” HIM. He had managed over that wall and shouted a hard ‘Wait!’ That made her jolt to do just the opposite. She turned down a small alleyway into an abandoned home and when he followed, she hugged the wall rather than continue to run. He seemed to pause at a dead end – turn and then she lunged, kicking him through a weak wall that collapsed under pressure. The bottom of her foot made contact with the square of his back, leg and thigh thrusting forward as wood and dust hit the air. Reaching for the 1006, she fired five consecutive rounds at the spot and when the dust cleared – she saw it was empty. A magazine click to the right of her and the trace outline of him beside her; it was over. She released the weapon, her guard dropping and sighed reluctantly.

“Look, I got the kill but if you really want the money… Mm, seventy-thirty of the earnings, me seventy, you…Thirty? Unless you’re in it for the fame.” She spoke, her arms raised in a surrender mode.

White smoke exploded from a small pellet, clouding his vision. From past experience Elijah knew to hold his breath, as to not inhale any of the gas in case it had unfavorable properties. Hesitating in the presence of a woman, he was unsure if he would ever get past it. Quickly moving out of the smoke, he saw that she was gone. Before he chased after, he dragged the heavy body of the dead man a short distance, and hefted him up onto the king sized bed. Putting some covers over him, to give the illusion that he was only sleeping, Elijah would be back to claim the prize.

Having lost precious seconds, Elijah sprinted out of the room, cleared the railing, landed to the ground and kept running. Dropping his INSAS rifle to lose some unnecessary weight, he saw that he was gaining on her. Momentarily losing sight of her when she disappeared over a wall, he didn't let up at all and high jumped up to the wall. He called out loudly, "Wait!" Of course she turned and ran. Looking at his options for getting down, the pile of hay, most likely her method, appeared to be scattered into a larger, thinner pile. A clever trap indeed to stop a pursuer dead in his tracks. Short on time, he took a small gadget out of his pocket, a grappling hook, and shot the sharp, hardened steel tip into the wall he was standing on.

Repelling down, he touched down on the hay covered ground in a matter of seconds. Leaving his grappling hook behind, having planned for use of it later, he continued his pursuit. His trail led him down an alley, to a dead end. Had he taken a wrong turn? If so, this chase was over. Looking around he never saw her coming, a strong kick to the square of his back. The force of the kick sent him through a thin wall. Concealed by the dust and debris from crashing through the wall, he took the opportunity to roll out of the way. Five shots were fired at the spot where he would have landed, but by now he was a considerable distance away. A thought occured to him, why had she kicked him when she could have shot him in the back?

Releasing the slide on his Indian Browning Hi-Power Auto 9mm A1, it clicked, alerting her of his presence. Barrel pointed at her head, he stood not too close and not too far, about ten feet away, not about to hesitate this time...or so he thought. Hands up in surrender, she said, "Look, I got the kill but if you really want the money… Mm, seventy-thirty of the earnings, me seventy, you…Thirty? Unless you’re in it for the fame." Not recognizing her voice, having been so long without it, he treated her like he would have any enemy.

Speaking in an aggressive tone he said, "I'm not in it for the fame. Seventy-thirty you say? What if I took you out of the equation? What then?" The way she stood there, helpless, something didn't feel right about it. But then, his entire life was about non-conventional warfare, eliminating targets in their sleep, when they were eating dinner with their family, when they least expected it. How was she any different? Half pulling the trigger, his finger froze when he saw her eyes, those black hues staring back at his greens. No! It couldn't be!

Immediately he lowered his handgun and turned pale, as if he had seen a ghost. Like a puzzle missing a piece, Elijah had found the missing piece and could see her clearly now. After three years of searching, giving up, considering her dead, here she was. Stumbling over his words, he said, "S...Sam...I mean...Lucy? You are...alive?" Everything had changed, he forgot about the mission, forgot about his hostility towards her and hers to him. For once in a great while his mind was consumed with only one thought, her.

Wanting to drop his gun and give her a hug like he used to, his reasoning side told him that was not the wisest idea. Why had she been unfindable for these years? Had she been unable to find him, or willingly avoiding him? He remembered her words, how she said that she wanted to be with him after the events at Trinity. Had her mind changed? Was she with someone else? So many questions that he desired to have answers to.

An unsure expression on her face, he said with happiness, "It's me! Elijah!" Emotion taking over, his reason was suppressed as his body involuntarily moved close to her, his gun holstered, arms at his sides, dying to reach out and hold her, but he didn't want to force her into this, he waited for her to make a move. Still closer he moved, silence was between them for what seemed like an eternity.

Moo! Thirty feet off, a cow had uddered a sound, breaking the silence between them. Bang! Twitchy reflexes like a spider, Elijah quickly drew, shot, and holstered his handgun, the bullet sinking into the cow's skull, the sacred animal collapsing to the ground. Walker could now get his hamburger that he had wanted earlier, that is, if any chefs in the area were willing.

Returning to his dreamlike state, he was close enough to give her a kiss. "I missed you so much..." Interrupted by the uproar from a crowd, drawn to their location by the gunshots, they would soon find a dead cow, which would surely not go over well for Elijah and Lucy. Forehead touching against hers, he made a move so they wouldn't be caught by them, or her.

Sweeping her off her feet, possibly against her will, he stole into the hole in the wall he had made himself, with a little push from her. Finding himself in the ground floor of a building, he exited through one of the doors and wound up on a busy street. Standing out in the crowd, he knew they had to get to safety. Spotting a Hindu holy temple, Elijah carried her inside, slipping past any onlooking eyes, knowing that they would not be disturbed inside.

“I’m not in it for the fame. Seventy-thirty you say? What if I took you out of the equation? What then?” The pistol was drawn, dead-center kill shot to her skull; after all that’s all it would take. Then something unbelievable happened – he lowered his weapon! “S..Sam…I mean Lucy…? You are…alive?” His voice, his frame and mechanical works had fit the profile, but beyond that – he was the only one who knew that small code nickname she had given herself prior.

It was Elijah – and there she registered those green eyes; the ones that held a thousand yard stare until he looked at her. The emotion that filled him, fleeting and then gone, only to return. “It’s me! Elijah!” A lot of thoughts crossed her mind but she realized then she wasn’t verbalizing it. The young man stepped closer, the warmth of his forehead touched hers and the heat spread along her face, touching Sam’s cheeks. She did nothing to resist or push him away. The only cost was a dead cow – none of which really mattered, not currently registering that people were outside.

“Elijah – it’s really you?” Her voice matched the same disbelief he held just moments before, her arms encircling him tightly as he led them astray; outside of the building and toward the Hindu temple. “Of course I’m alive – I was kidnapped, not executed,” she tossed, pulling back some to see his face as he continued to walk. He surprisingly had gotten a little taller from what she remembered; his face slightly worn, still had diminished his handsome mug. Taking two fingers she had squeezed the fat of his cheek, feeling the rough six o’ clock shadow under her thumb.

“Although they won’t be too happy about us meeting like this,” she paused briefly; slight worry crossed the young woman’s face. Then it passed and she readjusted her thoughts, deciding not to bother with trivial things. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot,” she spoke with a laugh, throwing her head against that strong shoulder and burying her face in the crook of his neck for a brief tender moment. “Three years… I’m also glad you found me,” she relished a little in the tightening of his grip as he responded when they were out of the public’s eyes. So he had missed her too – Samantha was glad to know that the feelings were mutual.

When the balls of her feet had touched the ground, the brunette did little to shun away from Elijah’s presence. Whether it was the time spent apart or time lost – she wasn’t sure how to react around him. A voice told her to simply be herself, but with age came maturity and understanding at how much he had grown. Those silly partnership rules that Trinity enforced didn’t apply and beyond code and ethnics – she wasn’t quite sure how Elijah saw her anymore. They had been partners, one time – but where was her place now? The young woman drew silent, gaze up toward the mercy of those green eyes – wondering if he had replaced her to move on or found another.

Reaching toward the hem of that dark colored shirt where it sagged, her fingers grasped at the material clutching it tightly. “I have a hideout east of here,” she spoke, but moved closer and closed the distance between the two of them once more. Moving her arms slowly, uncertain, they wrapped around that toned torso, the tip of her chin resting in the hollow of his chest. “You’ve grown since the last time,” she remarked – realizing that stealing a kiss was out of the question, at least without calling attention to it. There were other ways though and while she knew he probably wouldn’t mind – it still was harmless and fun to monopolize Elijah. She pulled him down a little to match her height and pressed those full lips against his; it was chaste at first but she grew a little courageous. Taking that warm bottom lip with her mouth and then, mischievously biting at it before breaking – an impish curl to her lips spread with a slight smile and rise of those full arched brows.

“Yeah, I missed you too.” She retorted, shortly after.

Safe at last, in the Hindu temple. The exotic architecture was unlike anything Elijah had ever seen. Giant pillars holding up the ceiling, set on a strong foundation. Crowds of people, kneeling down in prayer, facing a symbol commanding their worship. Not sticking around for the tour, Elijah and Sam had hidden in a walk-in closet on the second floor. A spacious room six feet wide and eight feet deep, they were surrounded by clothing, towels, and other items that he didn't recognize.

Settled inside, Elijah felt her grab his black outfit, using it to pull herself closer to him. She informed him, "I have a hideout east of here." A hideout! Already Elijah was lost in what adventures they would have together again, forgetting the rest of the world. After all, he had only joined back with Trinity two weeks earlier, and if he were to let go they would be more understanding. "We should remain here for a while, until things die down." The assassination, the gunshots, the cow, he thought about what would happen when his and Sam's target was found tucked in bed, dead. He suppressed those thoughts to the back of his mind, thinking about the emotion filled thoughts he had about her.

Finding her alive after three years, he honestly didn't know what to expect out of her. What he saw, in both her appearance and character, exceeded any and all expectations that he may have had. Letting her act out the motions, she held him around his torso, her chin against his chest. She said, "You’ve grown since the last time." He had grown a little taller, now just over six feet in height, and filled out with more muscle. Responding with a smile, he said, "So have you, in beauty." For so long he imagined telling her those words, but thought he would take it given the opportunity.

Elijah started to say something else but felt her pull him down to her height. Unable to speak as her lips moved against his, she gave him a bite on his lower lip then pulled away, saying with a smile, "Yeah, I missed you too." His heart skipped a beat, taking him back to the first time they kissed, on that beach in Thailand, he smiled.

Buzz! In his pocket, his cellular phone vibrated, notifying him of a received text message. Not taking his eyes off of her, he reached into his pocket and undid the back on his phone, then popped the Lithium battery out. Nothing was going to disturb this special reunion with her.

Holding her hand in his, rather clean for once, hand, he awkwardly said to her, "So...what name do you go by these days?" Immediately after the words had left his lips he had felt foolish, like his question had come off as a joke, which was not his intention. Elijah was having trouble deciding what name to call her by. In the months they had worked together, he had known her as Sam, but in their last moments before the separation, she had called herself Lucy. All he wanted was a name to call her by that she approved of.

His greens left her black eyes for a moment, looking through slits in the door behind him, thinking he heard footsteps. Elijah was right! An Indian woman was approaching the walk-in closet with a freshly cleaned and folded outfit, elegantly designed for the elders in the Hindu temple. In approximately eight seconds she would open the door and discover their hidden location, as there was nothing to hide behind in the closet. Elijah held up his hand with his pointer finger pointed up, giving her the indication to be silent. Quickly he removed a small device, which he activated. Searching on 'Google Images' for a Hindu woman, he selected a picture then hit a small button.

Flickering to life outside of the room, a life like, three dimensional image of the woman appeared from the receiving end of the hologram projector. Controlling her movements, Elijah intercepted the other woman who had just opened the door to the walk-in closet. Typing as fast as he could, then using a translation program, the hologram said, "Allow me to take that off your hands." Complying, the real Indian woman handed the hologram the clothes, which would have fell through to the ground, but Elijah had held his arm out at the precise moment, holding up the clothes, then pulling them inside, moving in pace with the hologram. When they woman outside had left, Elijah terminated the program and the hologram vanished.

Returning his undivided attention to Sam, he said with a smile, "Close call." Elijah put away the experimental hologram device that was only available by pulling some strings. Repositioning himself next to her, he moved an arm around her neck and held her close never wanting to let her go again. The un-fillable void that was within him, all his life, until he met her, was now returned, making him feel whole again. Whatever happened now, he would do everything with his intelligence and abilities to keep her safe.

Whispering in her ear, he said powerful words, "When you saved me, at Trinity, before you were taken away, you told me something. Those words have lived in me ever since...I..." He looked away, face turning red, feeling like he was moving too quickly. He didn't want to rush into things. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me the most. If...if you are willing, I promise to never make that mistake again."

“So…What name do you go by these days?”

His question was honest and it took her by small surprise, but for the most part she was mildly amused. Apart of her had wanted him to make the decision for himself, but even she knew that would have proved a challenging feat for Elijah. The complex turns and overanalyzing that took place in that brain of his was a weapon that sometimes, wasn’t always in his favor. With efficiency he had secured them a few more minutes of alone time – the every growing military technology was surprising and handy. He was speaking again, though this time; Samantha had all but remained his quiet counterpart; eyes studying his face as emotions ran through it.

A lot of uncertainty seemed to play a role – noticing that even though he was taller, stronger, Elijah still felt like an awkward teenager. Those smooth eyebrows arched at his brandish statement, asking for forgiveness, but a sympathetic smile filled those full lips. “I forgive you, Elijah,” Samantha spoke calmly deciding not to patronize him with things like ‘it’s not your fault,’ when she knew he was still bound to blame himself regardless. He had the soul of a soldier; failure in anything was always taken to the extreme. After all this time there was a high chance that he was still carrying such a heavy burden.

A hand had grasped at his elbow, thumb pressing into the inner arm making physical contact. “You can call me whatever, but if you want I’d like it if you stuck with Samantha, unless that’s too much to ask…” Toward the end of her words, they drifted lightly; gaze unsure of where to stick so it wandered from time to time. Impatient, she bit at her bottom lip that jutted out, returning her gaze to the door.

“We can’t stay here for too long, c’mon I know a short cut,” gesturing with a quick nod, the two of them had crouched low hugging the tactile walls. Upon exiting they took a small detour that was led by Sam, who took them behind the temple and over a wall. The alleyway was littered with dirt and wandering gazes, but none that seemed to register the two that passed by soundlessly. When they were a little further away – the tension melted and it was easier to walk normal, as it made sense not to appear suspicious. She stopped in a run-down area, moving a cardboard box aside as it revealed a staircase. It was two floors up that led them to one door – where she moved toward but quickly approached a wall. Her hand came down to rest on something, but it was painted and hard to see given the vantage point.

Tossing a grin over her shoulder she opened it and revealed a small pad, a black kitten had purred at the owner’s entrance, rubbing against Sam’s ankle. The black tail had curled into a question marker, its body was entirely black with the exception that it held white dipped paws – giving the impression it had boots. Those large gold eyes had looked to Elijah somewhat innocently, as Sam had walked further into the living room. Introducing them, she stopped, glancing out the window blinds but still speaking to the man, “Elijah, meet Hanks – she’s my partner in crime.” Turning to face him briefly, she lifted her hands, making small quote marks and hissing slightly. “She fights off small rodents while I sleep, very resourceful, who knows if she likes you she might bring you… A gift,” Sam had playfully smiled and gestured for him to close the door behind him.

The place wasn’t too large, but it held a lot of storage room and seemed livable. A small coffee table was a few feet off the ground, centered with seating pillows that varied in colors. The bamboo chair held a cushion and the straw-like couch held matching pillows that made it an easy spot to sleep on. There were a few plants that were decoration and a small hallway that revealed a bathroom and spare room that held weapons that were more-so put out of sight. A black box television was seated and one privy laptop was scattered amongst a hay of papers, some that she had pushed aside. “Relax, unwind – if you want you can take a shower while I make something to eat. I don’t know about you but I worked up an appetite,” she paused mid-step, looking at his attire. “You could wash your clothes, but I don’t think I have anything in your size,” her look fell with disbelief from the top of his head and shoulders, down the frame of his body and to his feet. She had imagined him in one of her outfits and snickered, looking away before he caught on. “Help yourself while I make dinner,” at those magic words, that black cat was at her side, purring for a small cat-like request to be remembered.

As the water to the shower ran, Samantha had taken a small spot parked in front of the fridge. She had a few things on ice which helped preserve the freshness of the food – and other misc items but her mind was tolling over what to make. Indian or perhaps something more American, deciding not to waste too much time – she had chose the fish on ice. As it fried – she blended it with a few medium spices to add flavor to the white meat; tossing in items like small pieces of garlic and onion to season it. When it was all served to the small coffee table, she set the two trays down, revealing a small blend of herbs, spice with the roasted fish and diced tomatoes. There were several kinds of sauce that came with the local market, all set on bamboo leafs. When he returned, she had pointed to the cushion seat and realized then he had managed to come up with a spare set of clothes.

“I think this makes it twice now that I’ve saved your life,” she picked apart the fish with her fingers deciding the wing the customary Indian belief that food was to be eaten without silvery. Taking a bite of the hot morsel, she slid another piece to the kitten that was pestering her. “First one you know and now, the second one is from starvation – Hmm. I wonder if I should cash in your debt now or just let it grow until its crushing,” she mimicked with her hands, exaggerating as a small joke, before calmly continuing to her meal. There was cold flavored tea set aside, occasionally drinking from it when the spices had managed to catch up with her.

Vanishing from the Hindu temple without a trace, Elijah followed closely behind Samantha in her footsteps. The way she moved, it was far different than before. Cutting herself off from lines of sight wherever possible, in addition to keeping close to the walls, she would have been difficult to spot in plain daylight. Here in the darkness she was as invisible as a ghost amongst blind men. Mimicking her movements in the night, he was impressed not only by the way she moved but also by her soundlessness. Elijah thought that if he were to blink, he might lose her trail. Moving quietly himself, he muffled the sound of his own footsteps by walking on the outer edges of his tactical boots, a technique he had learned from his father.

Putting distance between them and the action, they slowed their pace and walked with less caution, conforming to a more casual walk. He checked back over his shoulder ever so often, to look for any signs of being followed. Clear as far as he could see, which wasn't that far, given the low light of the late night. But his mind did not dwell on those thoughts, as the continual thoughts about Sam took over. She had stayed silent since they had left the temple, a wise choice knowing that speaking out here, exposed in the night could lead them to even more trouble, given the rundown status of their location. Elijah would have plenty of time to talk when they reached the safety of her hideout, wherever it was...

Elijah almost bumped into her, not noticing for a moment that she had stopped moving. Why had they stopped moving? Was she lost? Unlikely, she had told him that she knew a shortcut, and by her flawless progress earlier, she wouldn't just wind up lost. Was this a trap? Could it be that she was setting him up? With all his heart he wanted to convince himself that she would never attempt something like that, but his mind told him otherwise. He recalled that three years earlier, he was her assignment to be taken care of. Fortunately for him she didn't complete it. Inconspicuously bringing a hand to the side of his head, he made the gesture of shooting himself in the head with his hand, as if a gesture could eradicate all the potential dangerous thoughts his mind conjured up. While he was standing there, Sam had approached a cardboard box against and wall and moved it out of the way.

A hidden entry! Behind the cardboard box was a staircase. Elijah said to her, as a compliment, "Exceptional entrance." Following behind her, he repositioned the cardboard box to conceal the entrance like it was before. Walking up the staircase, Elijah's ears picked up on the slight creaks the steps made, notably at the edges. Reaching into one of his pockets, his fingers found five or so small, round electronic devices roughly the size of a glass playing marble. Releasing them from his fingertips, one every few steps, he had secured the steps with these decibel detecting devices. This would give him a short warning if there were any intruders.

Stepping foot through the hidden door, into a pad that was surprisingly livable. Before he could notice the details, movement caught his attention, from the golden eyes of a black feline. Introducing him to her, Sam said, "Elijah, meet Hanks – she’s my partner in crime." He crouched down and let the cat sniff his hand, then cautiously pet her on the head, wary from a few unfavorable encounters with cats, especially the larger ones. Speaking to the cat as if she were a person, Elijah said, "Hanks, pleasure to meet you." Not overdoing it, he stood back up. Sam said with a smile on her face, "She fights off small rodents while I sleep, very resourceful, who knows if she likes you she might bring you… A gift." Elijah smiled in return, "I will gladly accept a gift from a partner of Sam." Closing the door behind him at her implication, he took in his surroundings. A chair, couch, plants, laptop, and a television, among other things. The hideout had definitely surpassed his expectations, but then Sam had a knack for doing that.

"Relax, unwind – if you want you can take a shower while I make something to eat. I don’t know about you but I worked up an appetite." She paused, then continued. "You could wash your clothes, but I don’t think I have anything in your size." Elijah nodded, pondering how he could lose half a foot in height and drop about sixty pounds. No possible solution, save losing one or two limbs. Catching a glimpse of the expression on her face, he thought that she might like to see him in one of her outfits. Not letting on, he maintained his composure. Continuing to listen to her words, she said, "Help yourself while I make dinner." Elijah replied, "Thank you."

Leaving her presence, Elijah made his way to the bathroom and locked the door, so she might not accidentally walk in on him getting undressed, showering, or dressed. Pulling off his shirt, he let it fall to the ground. Taking a sweep through the small bathroom, he found it spotless, and on the counter around the sink, was a toothbrush, roll of floss, hair dryer, and some cosmetic items. Turning on the shower, he turned the knob to maximum heat and continued to undress. Heating up faster than he expected, Elijah stepped into the shower, the hot water hitting the top of his medium-short hair, taking a few seconds to soak down to his scalp. The burning sensation from the heat of the water on his neck and shoulders felt so relaxing, that he could almost have fallen asleep. After soaping up, he stood in the shower for a while, losing track of time. He knew it had been a long time when the hot water supply was running low, having used up the reserves from the tank. Summoning him away from the shower, was the powerful aroma coming from the kitchen.

Returning with a fresh change of clothes, lightweight cotton blue camouflage, which were pajamas which Elijah had packed with his gear. He had forgotten about them until he was getting out of the shower. Shaking his head a little, as if drying his hair, he said to Sam with a warm expression, "The shower was revitalizing." Elijah took a seat, finding an exquisite meal for two. Spiced fish and tomatoes, with exotic sauces on bamboo leaves. Just how many skills did Sam have? Killing, medical, and cooking... Elijah felt like he only spoke one langauge while she was trilingual, figuratively. Before he took his first bite, he said, "I bet you don't know how long it's been since I have had a quality, home cooked meal." He paused, then answered his own question with a smile, "Neither do I."

A moment of silence between them, before Sam said, "I think this makes it twice now that I’ve saved your life." Thinking about it, he wasn't sure about what was the second time. Following her lead, as she made the meal, Elijah took his first bite of fish, using his fingers like her, his taste buds tingling from the explosion of flavor. Stuffing his face, filling his mouth from being able to talk, he was all ears. "First one you know and now, the second one is from starvation – Hmm. I wonder if I should cash in your debt now or just let it grow until its crushing." Pausing for a drink of water, he laughed softly, "I will forever be in your debt Sam."

Finishing off the meal considerably faster than her, she wasn't kidding about his hunger. Content from the meal, he complimented her cooking, "Excellent meal." Offering to take her dishes, along with his own to the sink, he joked, "You should give up being an agent and become a chef." Pausing for a moment as he turned on the water, which was cold, even on the warm setting, he started to wash the dishes. He added, "And I could be the dish washer." Finishing up the dishes in a few minutes, he took a seat on the couch, inviting her to take a seat beside him.

Although he wasn't showing it, Elijah was having trouble adjusting to this change so fast. Even so, the trained killer was not about to change the warm mood. Snuggling up beside her, he was open for being silent in her company, watching some television or a movie, or asking her a question that had been unanswered for three years and counting. If she was willing, he would ask, "If I may ask, what happened to you after you were taken?"

“I’ll forever be in your debt, Sam.”

The words brought a smile to her mouth, her gaze was set on nothing in particular, but she found his face and features to be comforting. The suggestion, though joking – had a lingering effect on the female agent. It was easy for her to be swept away by such a light remark; her imagination was astounding though it was one Samantha never frequently shared. A life outside of the one she currently only knew – seemed to be a far off dream, but realized that dreams were possible. It was more or less a fantasy and with that, she laughed lightly, “Sure… You’re such a flirt.” Her voice fell apart toward the end and picked up the can of tea, bringing it to her lips.

The cool can had grown lukewarm over time and her gaze settled toward the spot when he stole a seat beside her. That momentary awkward silence and few shifts took place, her thumb rolling along the print of the tall can – uncertain of what to say at this point. Apart of it was nice to have peace and Elijah in the same setting, but the other half reminded her of this three year void: what took place and what hadn’t. Finally he had asked the most obvious question, what had happened to her.

In retrospect she was nothing more than a bargaining chip for them to use her brother, but that didn’t mean that certain thoughts didn’t fill Elijah’s head. The type of guy he was was ideal and genuine – it wasn’t as if that didn’t make him a capable killer, but it made him slightly easier to read – if only for her. He had probably thought the worst since he felt like a failure, but the warm can was brought to her lips, looking away as she took a drink.

“They shoved me in a dark room, I was scared – I fought, but they over powered me,” she paused questioning if she should continue, feeling him grow slightly tense, his jaw setting a slight grind course but he played calm: played it poorly. “They beat me and threatened to kill me if I didn’t comply… They… Climbed on top of me,” her gaze followed the length of those long, strong legs and up his torso, chest and his face but stopped at his harden expression. It was deathly cold and completely unreadable, even Samantha hated to admit that a look like that would make her doubtful in the moment of battle. “Sorry Elijah, I was… I was teasing you,” he released a breath he hadn’t known he held, a sort of ‘What?’ kind of look, questioning her and Samantha knew just then how incredibly guilty she was.

Under his gaze she felt like a scolded child, knowing that the conflicting emotions he probably felt were both between relief and anger – he was just unwilling to admit it. Biting at her bottom lip she looked down solemnly and explained, “I was just – you were so… But you…!” The explanation didn’t come and her flawed characters were beginning to show, never being capable of responding to authority. Angered at herself, she bit her inner cheek, though it was a playful anger, “They didn’t do anything – they couldn’t, they did try to control me with threats but…” That had obviously not worked out well on their end.

Playing victim was never a strong point – there was too much pride, too much arrogance to submit and be broken. “They said if I didn’t comply they’d hurt me, so I told them I’d bite my tongue and sooner die,” a cruel vivacious smirk filled her lips, eyes casting toward the weapon on the table. “When they didn’t believe me, I jumped ship… Without a parachute – course with their technology they recovered me at three hundred feet, but afterwards there was little questioning of it.” She had breathed, a heavy sigh, though a less than heartfelt smile had filled her lips – it wasn’t really fun to admit she cared little concern for her life or how Elijah would handle the knowledge.

“I was finally allowed to have my own place – I think they just couldn’t stand me but I’m under constant surveillance – they usually catch me in less than a week, but they don’t approach – just keep tabs. They use my whereabouts as leverage against my brother. I managed to secure this place two days ago, but it’s only a matter of time… Contacting you or Trinity was out of the question, they said they would shoot on sight so I never…”

She paused and decided it was pointless to finish as he was smart enough to piece the story together. She stood then and reached out, feathering his bangs with her hand, petting it like a parent would with a small child. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot back there, seventy-thirty was a good deal, jerk,” she joked, her face lighting up with a light smile.

“It mustn’t have been easy on you, I know how poor your social skills are – I’m guessing they didn’t give you any partners after me?” She questioned but sort of knew the answer, Trinity had just as likely felt guilty for one not stopping her before hand and two, failing Elijah who they prided themselves on. “I’m going to bed, don’t stay up too late – you look like you haven’t slept in awhile. We can talk more in the morning,” leaning over she had gave him a small kiss on the forehead, in an endearing manner. Walking away she moved toward the small bedroom and looked down as the black cat had stayed closer to Elijah. “Don’t worry, Hanks will keep you company,” she pointed at the kitten that purred against Elijah’s side for attention.

Releasing a breath he had unknowingly held, Elijah was relieved that the scarring experiences that Sam spoke of did not come to pass. Without saying a word in response, his face and eyes released the tension he had held inside, a mix of relief and anger. Not anger to her, but to the ones who had taken her, even if they weren't as harsh as she had previously stated. The teasing on her part didn't bother him much, as long as he heard the truth in the end, he would hold no negative thoughts about her.

Sam reacted to his silence, speaking in a fragmented sentence. Elijah tried to decipher it, but quickly gave up and focused on her flustered state of being. Had he been silent when he should have spoken? Unsure of what to make of the situation, he continued to stay silent, waiting for the right moment to speak. Listening, he took in what she said, how they had made threats against her, which seemed to have little effect, how she threatened to bite her tongue and die, and how she jumped like a daredevil without fear out of an aircraft, with no insurance, no parachute, saved only by their hand, a short distance from the ground. It gave Elijah some concern that she was willing to go that far, to live on the edge of throwing her life away. He cared for her more than she knew, he saw her as more than an agent, a partner, a friend... she was everything to him.

Telling of her current status, how she was free but bound at the same time, her last sentence caused him to narrow his eyes. "Contacting you or Trinity was out of the question, they said they would shoot on sight so I never…" Elijah now realized why she hadn't even attempted to contact him. If she had, she could have been lost to this world. That meant his presence with her was putting her in immediate danger, right now someone could have intel on her that she had met with a certain someone, and if they recognized Elijah... He was saddened that their peaceful time would not last. Given all he had been through in his life, he had learned one thing that was a fact. As long as there were people, there was conflict, and as long as there was conflict, there would never be peace.

She joked with him, telling him that her offer was a good deal. Even with her joking tone, her words were persuasive, causing Elijah to question himself to whether or not the seventy-thirty was a good deal. Given the circumstances, if they had been on equal ground, meaning they each had a gun to the other, then the seventy thirty would have been a good deal... Elijah was going down a road that was taking him farther away from their conversation.

"It mustn’t have been easy on you, I know how poor your social skills are – I’m guessing they didn’t give you any partners after me?" Elijah glanced down at the ground, hearing her words confirm one of his weaknesses. He never was big on talking, being more of the type that shot first and asked questions later. He said, "It wasn't easy for me..." He wanted to tell her how painful it had been for him, how some days when he woke up, he had thoughts about ending it all then and there. But every time he felt the cold metal in his mouth and tasted the residue of gunpowder from the end of the barrel. Every time he had squeezed the trigger half way, he couldn't go through with it. When he was the closest to taking his own life, all he could see was her face, her black eyes, searching desperately for him like his greens were searching for her.

"They didn't give me any partners..." Elijah paused, deciding whether or not to tell her the truth. "...because I left, in search for you." Quickly following up his words, so she would not feel responsible, he said, "Don't blame yourself, you could not...technically can still not...be seen with me." Closing his eyes for a moment, "I was a blind man without you Sam. No replacement eyes could compare to the ones you gave me." He opened his eyes keeping his face completely neutral and unreadable, speaking with only his eyes. The words from his eyes didn't reach her, as her eyes sleepy. Elijah could tell she acknowledged her words, just she was not feeling like continuing the conversation. He understood and would have to hold off until a later time.

Tired, she said, "I’m going to bed, don’t stay up too late – you look like you haven’t slept in awhile. We can talk more in the morning." She followed it up with a kiss on his forehead. Elijah gave her a light hug, not wanting to let her go. She said, "Don’t worry, Hanks will keep you company." Letting her slip from his arms, he smiled, "Very well. I won't stay up too late. Sleep well Sam." Watching her leave him, going to her room, he sat back on the couch.

"Hanks? Here kitty..." Elijah's attempt to call the black cat failed, Hanks not even giving any recognition that her name had been called. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked to his left and saw a remote. Flipping on the television, he went through all the available Indian channels and found nothing worth watching. While he was staring at the flashing screen, his mind was at work, as usual. Sam was not allowed to be seen with him. The people that kept tabs on her, they had to get information about her somehow. Maybe she had a tracer embedded underneath her skin? He made a mental note to ask her about it tomorrow. Turning off the television he leaned back on a pillow, touching something living.

Out of reflex he pushed off the back of the couch and turned around, ready to... "Hanks." He sat back down, reaching behind his shoulder and patting the cat on the head. "Surprised me there." Returning to the fact that she was checked up on consistently, he thought about the two days. How close were they? Elijah scratched his medium short hair with his fingertips. There had to be a solution to this, one that would end with him and Sam together, without fear of any threats. He sighed. There was only one way this would come to pass, a lot of people would have to die. Even then, tying up all the loose ends would be strenuous. Elijah looked at Hanks. How simple life must be to be a cat. Wandering, eating, sleeping, catching mice, and using a litter box. No complex questions to deal with...

Static...creak! The sound device he had dropped on the stairs were picking up some noise. Listening through a small speaker placed in his ear, he silently rose to his feet. An intruder! Finding a place to hide, he concealed himself behind the couch. Elijah then realized he didn't have a handgun! The door swung open, taking away any options to move. Unmoving on his knees, he heard the footsteps of the intruder, relieved when they did not approach him. The steps were moving away, to Sam's room! Elijah peeked over the edge of the couch, seeing the man's back moving away from him. Heart racing, Elijah followed, staying as quiet as possible. Ghosting the intruders movements, Elijah crept up a few feet behind the man, ready to snap his neck.

Instead of twisting the life out of him, Elijah froze. The intruder peeked into Sam's room, then turned back where he had came from. Standing as still as a statue, Elijah watched as the intruder left as quickly as he had came in. She had been found, and he had failed to act. Was that the correct choice? Unsure, all he knew was that they had found Sam. Which meant that his presence was not known to them. Elijah wanted to wake her, to get out now, but he was dead tired himself. He thought that they should be safe tonight, as their unwelcomed visitor had left. Crashing on the couch, Elijah's eyes flickered, then...black.

Apart of her had felt guilty for Elijah, watching as he restrained himself and reasoned with logic. It would have made sense had he exploded in a whirl of emotion, at least then she knew she could understand what he was clearly thinking or feeling. Instead, he was trained by some of the best whose names would never make books and like any soldier it was swallowed up in those carved features.

Maybe breakfast would make up for it – something hot and delicious, Samantha decided as she flopped on the small bed lying across it rather than the correct way. The room was quaint, mostly built out of wood with an open window that allowed fresh air to come in. Mentally she gave herself a few hours of rest because it was all she ever knew, but she woke later than anticipated. In fact, she wasn’t even sure when she had really fallen asleep – it was a soft blur, one that had the girl sitting, wiping at her chin and craving nothing more than a hot shower. She’d glanced at the clock and was hoping for it to read 4AM but found it was a little past 8.

“Ugh, great,” the palm of her hand had pressed at her face – rubbing at it before wordlessly moving to the restroom. She closed it behind her and turned on the hot water, stripping off her clothes and stepping under, eyes closed as the water had hit her face and hair. A few minutes had passed before she had finally woken enough to do more, washing at her hair, body and face before rinsing off and moving out. Changing into civilian clothes; she donned a loose white shirt that fell off the shoulder revealing a blue tank top that was layered with it and black leggings. Barefoot the woman had stepped out in the hallway and toward the living room to see a different setting than the one she had left before.

There were a few empty plates that looked to be breakfast and Elijah in uniform, though it looked a little cleaner from what she could see. She figured he had either gotten up earlier than her and had nodded out or was deep in thought. Still drying at her hair, she let the damp locks fall over her shoulder and twirled the small white towel to a rope like setting. Moving quietly, she stepped behind Elijah and meant to throw it over, pulling it near his neck but found his hand blocking it. He was surprisingly fast, but she released it and went for the plunge, an arm looping around his neck and the words “Sur” short of surprise, left her lips. In one fatal flash, she felt her weight shift forward and with a sharp breath she prepared for the worst. Most of her weight fell on her shoulder, making contact with a cushion below but she rolled to avoid any real damage and came to a slight halt on her side.

With her back to Elijah and her long hair cascading over her shoulder and blotting out of her face – she reeled slightly. She’d managed to tuck a leg under her for balance, pushing up with the palm of her hand, searching for him with her voice. “Elijah..? That really hurt…” She paused for a moment and then her hand slipped under her, falling back down to the ground and remained motionless for the most part until she felt a pair of hands turning her over and around. Samantha was met with inspecting green eyes that held a twinge of guilt or was it concern?

“Gotcha,” she grinned slightly and placed a hand on his shoulder, to help herself back to her feet. “Relax… It’s not the first time I’ve been thrown,” she looked away, dusting at her shirt and thigh, “Course never so far…” She tied in and let out a small laugh, the slim fingers had poked him in his side.

“Did you sleep well?” Moving across the room, she stole a seat on the arm of the chair, fingers moving through her damp hair. She began to braid it, partially out of habit, but mostly to secure it until it dried. “You know, I’ve been meaning ask, but… How have you been?” Pursing her lips she had looked at him expectantly but continued, stopping midway on the braid and sinking into the chair. “It must of not been easy on you, I’m sorry I couldn’t get word to you or anything – I always… Thought about you, Elijah.” She placed the part of her cheek into the palm of her hand, propping herself up. “I kept wondering if you were looking at the stars like I was or at least moon.” She continued, her words slipping into a murmur – falling deep into memory.