A bleeding wound, soaking crimson into my white button-up shirt. I should have worn my black one, I hate that one anyway. Oh, well, it's just clothes. Michael is going to owe me big for this anyway.

"That all you got, you girly-fisted punk?" I ask, wiping blood from the corner of my mouth.

I stagger and play the drunk like a good soldier. The man comes at me again and I duck away from most of the kicks force, but I have to make it look convincing. I have to take another one for the team. Too bad Victoria couldn't see me doing this - she'd be hot and sweaty just watching. I lose focus for a moment and then the stagger is for real. I stumble backwards and give the cue for Fiona to play her part. It's over in seconds.

"You okay, Sam?" Fiona asks, feigning disinterest. We have mutual respect and an unspoken agreement not to show it.

I cough and swallow a coppery taste. "Fine." I answer in short.

Victoria. Ah, the pains I suffer for friends and...family? How am I suppose to respond to her offer of marriage. I refuse to accept it as a question, because then I would need to scrounge around in my true heart for an answer. I'm afraid of what I'll find if I look past the booze and the bravado.

I shoot Fiona a half-grin and mutter sarcastically. "You could have stepped in sooner."

"And miss seeing the 'master' at work?" She laughed and pulled a gun from her waist. "We better go see what's keeping Michael."

I follow, a slight limp betraying my injuries, and wish Victoria had known me twenty years ago - no, thirty - no...When was I ever young and innocent and ready for love? This time I have to face the question and I find no answer. Guess we were never meant to be. Me and Forever-Love.

And that's the truth.

-THE END