It was late afternoon and the lighting thus corresponded with the one Jacob Broadsky assumed for his duty in the clinic. The practicing area was set up to his satisfaction. So he decided to do some test shots. He searched a tree in the needed distance and climbed up. Focusing at the right angle towards his training target, Jacob didn't notice the weakened state of one of the branches he leaned on. When it gave the first squeak, he tried to shift his weight, secure his rifle.

But it was too late. The branch cracked and he fell.

"Crap!" Jacob heaved himself in a sitting position. His back hurt, and he had some bruises on his arm, where he had scratched the bark. Nothing serious, though.

"Are you okay?" Destiny's voice sounded anxious. He sensed her arms supporting him. She wiped hastily over her eyes. Tears? Anyway, she did not want him to see it!

She really cares about me… he thought and felt a bit awkward, knowing he could not return the feelings she obviously had for him. Not… yet, at least…. Jacob managed a reassuring smile. "I'm –"

The word 'fine' didn't leave his mouth, though. His eyes caught his rifle, or more, what was left of it! Unfortunately, it had hit a sharp rock on the ground. The scope was shattered into pieces and the barrel was damaged as well. His fingers stroke over the pitiable remains.

"You can buy a new one," Destiny said. "The most important thing is that you aren't seriously hurt!"

"I can't buy a new one," Jacob replied without looking up. At the moment, he felt really very weak. "I bet the FBI has all available sources already under surveillance. And even if not… I have simply not enough money anymore. Half of my latest advance payment went off for my medicine." He sighed.

An idea took shape in Destiny's mind. "Maybe…," she started, kneeling down again next to him, "… it's a sign of… God for you. A sign to stop."

A moment went by in silence. It started to rain again in large, soft drops.

"No," Jacob finally said. "I can't quit. I have work to do." With some effort, he got to his feet again and took the broken weapon.

"Perhaps you can use my rifle?"

"Maybe." He walked off without turning again. So he didn't see the desperation settling in her features at this response.

Taking Destiny's rifle had been an idea, but after having inspected the weapon, Jacob knew he couldn't use it. Even if he would acquire a scope with the needed capacity. Destiny's rifle was a standard one, very good for standard sniper jobs. Not for the one awaiting him!

Lying awake at night, he scouted the various options still within reach. There was one person who could be in possession of a weapon like the one he needed. At least the man had been when he last met him a couple of months ago! Jacob Broadsky decided to refresh the contact to his ex comrade Mark Leishinger…

As cautious as Jacob could be considered the pressing time, he checked for Leishinger's whereabouts. Doing this, he figured out, that the final court sitting of his target had been rescheduled: pushed up one week! Time was running out!

One week later…

While Jacob was gone to meet his old comrade, Destiny walked nervously on and off in the cabin. What if this so-called old buddy had made a deal with the FBI and Jacob got caught? It wouldn't take the cops long then to show up here and arrest her as well. The young woman was afraid of this prospective. However, even more she was worried about the man who had left the cabin this morning that full of confidence!

She leaned against the dirty window and tried to discern anything outside. I could have accompanied him! I could've provided cover! I should've done it, shit! Her hand moved absently over her own weapon, fumbling for the familiar shape and recreating it in her mind, while she was still scowling outside.

When they catch you someday, I won't let them drag you through court rooms and prisons! I won't let them kill you on the death chair! Destiny was resolved this very moment. You're going to die like a soldier… She realized her right hand cramped around her rifle and the left one in the fabric of Jacobs second jacket. She drew a deep breath and added solemnly and aloud: "I swear. The hell I swear!"

Meanwhile, Jacob talked with Leishinger and tested the man's brought along rifle. It was a marvelous weapon, in best shape – it was what he needed. Just within reach. God had provided for him; and any obstacles had to be eliminated, if they arose. And it looked as if Mark would become that kind of obstacle…

"Can I borrow your rifle and access card for the harbor or not?" Jacob asked again.

Mark Leishinger blew little smoke rings with his cigarette and hesitated. "Jake, you know, man…"

"It's for a good cause. I told you. Don't you trust me?"

"It has nothing to do with trust." The other sniper jumped to his feet and walked some paces. "Look! Since I left the army, I've seen a lot of shit! I've done a lot of shit! I've even spent some weeks in jail because of it! I don't want to be there again! I have a girl; we want to marry!"

I had a girl, too… Jacob stared on the ground, at the coveted rifle.

"…Don't you understand, Jake? It has nothing to do with you! I just don't want any trouble! Especially not with the FBI!"

But you want monsters that raped and killed little girls walking away. You want to close your eyes and live happily ever after.

"Jake?" Mark stopped next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't take this personal, do you?"

He stood up the same and smiled. "No."

The next second, he attacked him. Two precise hits and Leishinger was down in the vulnerable position making it the matter of a moment to kill him with a sharp blade.

For the blink of an eye, the world froze, when Jacob stared at the lifeless body to his feet. There seemed to be pain in his mind, in every part of his body – before it concentrated in his right hand. A pulsing, nagging, very real pain. The attempt to spread his fingers ended in a suppressed moan. Shit! Nonetheless, there was no time to bother with the injury now. He had to take what he came for and leave fast!

Outside the cabin, the last purple sun glow gave way to the blue velvet shades of the beginning night. Inside, Destiny tried under the light of their two flashlights to adjust and bandage Jacob's broken hand.

"This is crazy! You should have a doc taking care of that!"

"You do just fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"You may never be able to move it properly again!" She pressed a metal bracket she had found in a drawer against his palm and applied another layer of duct tape around the hand.

"If I show up in a clinic, I will not be able to move properly anymore, too, because I get handcuffed."

Destiny looked at him with an incredulous half smile and shook her head. "You know this sounded almost like a joke." However, it was far too much reality to allow even a little laugh to break through.

Jacob watched her in silence finishing her work. Then he rose and marched through the tiny dusty room in order to avert the focus of his body from the pain. – And his mind from another troubling issue.

"Destiny, you have to leave! I'll give you the money I can still spare and you'll leave this country!"

"We are in this together!" she replied. "I won't go! You need some help, if only in watching your back! Or… applying a bandage."

He walked past her with a suppressed sigh. The problem was she was right. Of course he could do his job and shoot – as long as the rifle was properly fixed and adjusted, what normally was the case. But in any hand-to-hand combat or on the run he was severely restrained with only one hand. Someone watching his back and giving cover would be just perfect. However… however not Destiny!

"I have only one access card for the harbor. I can't take you with me and we can't stay here for much longer."

"You think your old comrade will finally betray you?"

"He's dead." Jacob turned towards the window. The night outside left nothing but his own fuzzy image to discern. "He left me no other choice." For some reason, he felt compelled to justify his action further. "In war, there is collateral damage. We chased Saddam Hussein's henchmen; we chased the Taliban – and what stood in our way, was either providing us help or had to be removed. For a greater good! I'm still at war. It's just a different kind of war."

He could sense her rejection. He wanted to say more, or at least turn around and face her. However, he rested there like frozen. Suddenly the pain in his hand was a rather welcome distraction!

"The little boy I killed," Destiny's voice reached him after a while, "was only collateral damage, too. I shouldn't have freaked out because of snuffing him, right? But I'm a fuckin' loser!" She ended shouting.

Now Jacob spun around. The young woman crouched on the bed, crying.

He walked over and put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" was all she could manage at the moment.

"It's okay. Nothing to worry about."

"Don't talk to me as if I was a little girl!" Despite her efforts, she still sobbed. "I failed my comrades, my father and YOU! I'm quite simply a loser!"

"That's not true. Come on, pull yourself together!" He tried to give a harsh command to a soldier, but his voice was low and soft. The fingers which had just brushed her tears away, moved further in caressing circles over her face. When she lifted her head, their lips met in a hesitant kiss.