It was the six month anniversary of James' death. Winn had kept track of every day. But six months seemed especially momentous. Half of a year. He stayed home from work, telling Sam he had a headache. Which wasn't a lie.

When she came home, she found him sitting on the sofa with no TV on and a bottle of whiskey in front of him.

"Didn't think that stuff helped a headache." She said.

"For this one it does."

"Okay. Anything I can help you with."

"Nope."

"Okay then." She started to walk away, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Stay."

"Okay." She sat beside him. She was quiet. If he wanted to talk to her, he would.

After what seemed like hours spent in silence, he finally spoke. "A friend of mine was killed six months ago today."

"I'm so sorry."

He took another drink of his whiskey. "It was my fault."

"Well, that sucks."

He looked at her. "You aren't going to tell me it wasn't my fault like my friends tried to."

"I don't know what happened. How can I tell you that? Also, whether it was or not, you believe it was and have been beating yourself up about it since before I met you, so that really sucks."

"How do you know I've been beating myself up?"

"I can see the pain in your eyes when you think no one is looking."

He stared at nothing for a while, then when he spoke, it was very quietly. "How much can I trust you?"

"Loyalty means everything to me. If you choose to tell me something, it will NEVER leave this room. I won't even bring it up unless you do. I have been burned by people in the past. The only other person I trust is Marni, but I won't tell her anything you tell me. I won't ever betray a friend's trust."

He nodded. "At my last job, my friend James was doing some, we'll call it crime fighting and my job was to be in a van and guide him. Tell him what was happening, etc."

She frowned. "At the private security firm?"

He stared at his drink for a moment. "It wasn't exactly a private security firm. It was a government thing."

Her eyes widened. "A government agency? Which one? FBI? CIA?"

"No. It was sort of a secret one."

"Secret? Like a black ops?"

"No, not that…well, kind of. But like really important stuff."

"How did you get involved in that?"

"Through a friend."

"Wow. So your friend got you into this and then died?"

"No, well, a different friend got me in. She didn't die. My other friend, James, he's the one who died."

"Okay, so you're working for a secret government agency and you're working with your friend. He was out there fighting bad guys I assume? And you were telling him what to do?"

"Yeah. Well, he did have this really awesome suit to protect him."

"The agency gave him a suit?"

"He was actually working kind of tangentially to the agency. They didn't give him the suit."

"Where did he get it?"

"I made it." Despite the sadness about James' death, there was a bit of pride about the suit.

"Wow. But that day, it didn't protect him?" she asked in a low voice.

"No. Well, he came up on an adversary that almost no one could defeat."

"So what exactly did you do wrong?"

"I was supposed to guide him, to help him survive and beat the bad guy."

"So you didn't guide him?"

"I did, but this…guy was too strong for him."

"So, again, what did you do wrong?"

He looked at her. Then he thought again about that night. He'd done everything the way he should. He'd even run the suit through a check-up that day and done a diagnostic on the equipment in the van. He had also warned James that this guy had been tough and maybe he should leave it to Supergirl. But James had been adamant.

Winn looked at Sam. "You know, I really didn't do anything wrong."

She rubbed his leg. "Sometimes, no matter what we do, how hard we try, things just happen. We don't have control over everything. I know you're a guy who would like to, but…"

"Here's the thing: I don't have control over many things in my life. My father killed people and tried to take me down with him. Leaving me to grow up in a foster home where you literally have nothing. My love life has been completely out of my control every time. But when I'm in front of a computer, I have power. I can do anything. Nothing is beyond me." He hesitated for a moment.

"So when that failed me, I kind of fell apart."

"But it didn't fail you. You said this guy was bigger, stronger, whatever, really hard to defeat. So what else could you have done to prevent James' death?"

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He thought for a few minutes. She kept rubbing his leg.

"Nothing. I really couldn't have done anything."

"Didn't your friends point that out to you?"

"To tell the truth, I never gave them the chance. I left quickly and never said goodbye to them. Not even my best friend."

She punched him lightly on the arm. "Dude! That's not cool. Let me tell you, if you walk out on me without saying goodbye, I will hunt you down and you will regret it."

He smiled, then got pensive again staring at the floor. When he looked up and into her eyes, he asked, "Can I really let go of this guilt?"

She took his hand. "Guilt is really hard to get rid of. I know. I blamed myself for my dad. Did I want too many things? A new video game or movie? Was that why he gambled? For a little while in high school, I stopped eating, thinking that if I didn't cost him any money… Even getting that loan was part of my guilt because he'd spent so much money raising me.

"Eventually, I realized it wasn't because he needed money. He had a decent job. We lived in the Bronx, it wasn't expensive there. He gambled because he liked to. Or maybe he had to, it was an addiction. Doesn't matter, it wasn't because of me. It still hits me sometimes, but for the most part, I've put the guilt behind me and I remember the good times we had together. If you can do that, you'll be happier."

He smiled and pulled her into a hug, one that he held longer than he probably should have, but it felt good to hold her.

She melted into his embrace, inhaling him and wishing he would continue to hold her.

He finally pulled back, but their eyes met as he did. God, he wanted to kiss her. He hated holding back his feelings, but he remembered what happened with Kara. He couldn't risk that. Sam was beginning to mean even more to him than Kara had.

Some of the weight of guilt began to lift from him after that and he was able to look at his life through clearer eyes.

He had a good job, not exciting, but it paid well. He had a good friend/roommate that he was starting to develop feelings for. They had fun together. And maybe sometime soon, he would contact friends in National City.

That contact happened sooner than he'd anticipated.

If you're liking this story, you may be happy to know that I am working on a sequel. But don't worry, this one still has a lot left in it.