The Mission

Chapter 4 - Into the void

Mission Accomplished. Satisfying words to a soldier. The blood pumping anticipation, the strategies, the final hunting of prey. Like a panther, I was silent and deadly. I followed my instincts and carried out my orders with deadly precision. Every mission ended the same, elimination of a dangerous target. Then why wasn't I basking in the aftermath? Why did I feel empty?

What happens when the missions are over? Will they be over? Would I continue to assassinate on command until they got the better of me, and I ended up dead or an old pathetic drunk somewhere? After saving Catherine's life that first night, each time a mission was successful, a small chink would penetrate my armor. I was starting to feel.

So here I was pacing around my cave, the houseboat. I paced and fretted about what I had done and what future missions would bring. I couldn't clear this with Condor; he didn't need to know my inner turmoil. A soldier shouldn't be questioning his commanding officer.

This frustration was because of her. Catherine, my forbidden pleasure. I was a soldier, entrusted to carry out critical secret missions. She was an intrusion, was always lurking in the back of my mind. Sometimes her voice, a look, or a smile would burst through to touch my soul.

She was an enigma. Confident, impetuous, curious, demanding, at times hesitant and unsure, a pain in the ass, and smokin' hot. She had interrupted every one of my missions. Several times she was in danger so I learned to include her possible appearance into each tactical plan. I looked over my shoulder whenever I was out on reconnaissance. She was there somewhere, either in the flesh or in my thoughts. I just worked around it. She insisted that I needed her protection, her help. I reminded her time after time that I worked alone and couldn't divulge my secret missions. She wheedled, followed, and demanded. She wormed her way into my heart.

She wanted me to remember her. She wanted me to tell her about my missions and she wanted to know who my handler was. It was impossible to comply with her demands. Still, I sought her out. There was a deep-seated need to be with her, even though I didn't remember her and definitely couldn't answer her questions.

There was no danger of me leaking classified information; it was beyond my capability to tell Catherine anything. The training was too deeply imbedded. It was a wall as thick as cinder block preventing any discussion. She would get impatient. She didn't understand that secrecy was paramount to successful missions. She insisted that we had always trusted each other.

She found my houseboat, so it was no longer a safehouse. Now it pulsed with the possibility of this beautiful woman dropping by without warning. Actually, she didn't find the houseboat; I forcibly took her there when she was tailing me during one of the early missions. I tried to be abrasive and severe, let her think I was dangerous. But that didn't last long. She was safely tied up, out of the way but I couldn't concentrate on completing the mission. Her heartbeat drew me to her.

Before I knew it, I was seated next to her, she was untied and she was drawing me out. She asked about the memory wipe. She moved close. "Do you remember me?" Then she kissed me. "No." I put my arms around her. She kissed me again. "Now?" I shook my head. It was all I could manage. I pulled her even closer. We kissed again, more intensely. This had nothing to do with memories. It was the present, the hot sensual present. My heart started racing until it matched hers. This did not require memories. She wanted me and I wanted her desperately.

Later, the mission intervened. It was all I could do to leave her; she looked so soft and appealing.

She followed me, but she was safe and out of harms way. I completed my mission without compunction. This time, another life was saved because the target was going to kill a young woman. He didn't get the chance. It wasn't until much later that I questioned my mission along with everything else.

Catherine had seen the entire maneuver. While she approved of the life saving, she was not thrilled about the rest. She was convinced I was owned and manipulated. She wanted me to tell her who it was. That accusation burned so hot, I exploded. She was too close to a truth I couldn't accept. She wanted me to trust her implicitly, but in reality, I didn't actually know her. I could never trust her with the missions because of the memory block, but she was forcing me to see things I didn't want to see. My instinct took over and I lost control for the first time since the early days. My reaction was swift and unwarranted; I shoved her. She was propelled backwards and fell hard. Oh Jesus, what had I done?

Through Catherine, I was building memories one at a time. All of the good ones were because of her. The rest were dark, bloody, and oppressive. This beastly assassin was all that I was until Catherine crashed into my life. I discovered a desire to tame my beast side because of her. Often she would scold, question motives, or condemn. But even when she was snappish, I accepted it without hostility. She seldom made me angry; instead, I became sympathetic to her inner struggles. It was her indomitable spirit that drew me to her. She survived a history that could have destroyed her, but was more courageous because of it. She had not been afraid of me at all, insisting I would never hurt her. She could say things that should have wounded but because she trusted me, she could voice them. I understood and tolerated those remarks as my way of providing solace to her. Empathy was helping me find my way back to humanity.

She told me about her parents, how both had been murdered. Her mother was shot in front of her. Her father died from complications due to a hit and run accident that also occurred before her eyes. She told me that because of me saving her life all those years ago everyone thought she was delusional, suffering from PTSD. When she finally found me she found peace for the first time, then I was taken from her too.

No wonder I had seen pain in her eyes. No wonder she barricaded herself and sometimes lashed out to protect herself. She trusted me enough to share her burden. Now I shattered that trust and effectively destroyed all that was good in my life.

There was no way around it. I did the unforgivable. I hurt her and could have killed her. I should have left as soon as she started asking questions. It was a mistake to stay. It was right after the mission so the animal lust was still seething just below the surface. I could feel it leap to life as soon as she said those ominous words, "Does someone own you?" I pushed her away hard, just as she reached for me. Using my last shred of control so not to leap onto her, I backed away. So much for my return to humanity. As she lay sprawled on the floor, she looked up at me with sheer anguish, tinged with fear and doubt.

After seeing the accusation in her eyes, I bolted, telling myself that by all that was holy, I would never see her again; I would never hurt her again.

It would be almost a death sentence for me since she was becoming my entire reason for living. After all, before her, I was an empty, brainwashed, amnesiac. Yes, brainwashed. Training was what I had told myself, but I was beginning to realize it wasn't training at all.

But rather leave her forever than to see the look of fear or worse, facing the fact that I had the ability to harm her.

Now I was pacing back and forth, my life in chaos. A beast raging inside brought to life by a voice I was suddenly questioning. Every time I thought of Condor, I became agitated. The fog of brainwashing was starting to deteriorate making me jumpy. All my realities were disintegrating. Something about him was menacing. There were ulterior motives here, not world saving ideology.

This was one hell of a way to live. There were slivers of memories demanding recognition. Missions, murder, suspicious motivations warring with poignant memories of lost loved ones, friendships, and memories of Catherine.

I had to find myself and then I would heal myself. Not the soldier, not the brainwashed assassin used to carry out devious plots, not the violent beast. I would find the real man. Was there any decency in me, had I ever been upright and principled? There was only one person who hadn't been harmed by me yet, the man who said he had known me for a lifetime. The one who, if I didn't scare him to death, may be able to answer that question, JT Forbes.

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