wishing doesn't make it so

Sarajevo

Diana was in the shower. Clark sat on the side of the bed. Two days had passed. In the little world they created in this cheap hotel room, everything seemed okay. It wasn't though. This was an escape, a beautiful, wonderful, amazing escape, but the truth was, there was no escape. Problems needed to be dealt with. They wouldn't just go away. When he was with her everything else seemed to get pushed to the background. He felt whole again. He could almost forget everything else just looking at her. The way her eyes shifted downward for only a fraction of a second when she spoke of something personal. The way she casually pushed a few curls behind her ear when she was feeling flirty. And the way she bit her lower lip to stop herself from asking what was next for them.

The easy thing would be to pretend. Offer her vague guarantees about the future. Make promises he wanted and wished to keep. Yet he would know they would ultimately be lies and so would she. The alternative was the truth, but that basically offered her nothing. He wanted to give her more than that, because she deserved it. Holding her at arms length hadn't worked, but holding her in his arms made it so hard to let go.

He wanted many things, her most of all. It frightened him at first how much he wanted her. At first he was afraid that by wanting her he was somehow betraying Lois and what they had together. It probably made no sense to most, but when he'd taken those vows he'd meant them. Love and Honor, Till Death Do Us Part weren't just words of a ceremony to him, they were a sacred promise he'd made to the woman he loved. Discovering he had feelings for Diana felt like he was cheapening that promise. He was in no shape then to deal with it, so he kept pushing her away.

He realized now how lucky he was that she hadn't let him. It would have been so easy for her to walk away. He'd certainly given her every reason to. Why she hadn't, he still wasn't complete sure. It was just another reason she was so special. He'd had sex with Suzette, but that somehow didn't seem like a betrayal. It was a physical act, an expression of desire and need. Neither of them asked or wanted more than that.

With Diana it was sex but so much more. He felt guilty, as if he was forgetting Lois. It was here in this cheap hotel room he let himself finally understand the whole truth. He would never forget Lois and what they had. She was such a huge part of his life. The hardest for him to admit was the second part of that vow, till death do us part.

Life wasn't fair.

Lois was dead, murdered in front of his eyes. He'd been haunted by that day every since. It felt like such a cruel irony that he kept on living. He'd been punishing himself and everyone that tried to get close for more than a year now. In fact the closer they got, the more he seemed to go out of his way to hurt them. That had to stop if he was ever going to move on. A few months ago the very idea of moving on seemed futile to Clark. His wife and child, his whole world was gone, there was nothing left.

He was just drifting through life day to day like a spectator, just watching the show play out in front of his eyes. There were moments; brief moments of life in Suzette's bed and in the ring but those were fleeting. It was so frightening to even think about caring for anything again. Even the thought of having it all taken away again was too much. Anything seemed better than that. He wasn't worried about death or what came afterwards, he'd already experienced heaven and hell right here on Earth.

So he ran away as far and as fast as he could to the ends of the world, but life kept following him. In a way what scared him the most was five feet away in the shower. Diana. When he was with her he could almost see glimpses of a future. That just fueled his fear. How do you explain being afraid of loving someone? Because every experience has taught you that when you do, you lose them.

Perhaps the other truckers in Afghanistan had it right all along. The nickname fit. He was the Pale Horse and death always followed with him.


Paris

Tom was on the run. Sweat poured off him and his lungs were burning, but he kept running. The news of Frasier's death had reached him through the grapevine and he knew he was the prime suspect. Hell, he wished he had killed him. The problem with it was that it made the Agency double their efforts to either capture him or neutralize him. As another bullet bit into the asphalt next to him, he knew the preferred option was to neutralize him.

He knew he was in deep shit. All his carefully laid plans had turned to ashes overnight. His own people wanted him dead. He knew the Council had people in Paris as well, so he assumed they were here to kill him too. Kent was gone and he only had the whore's word that he was in Sarajevo. Tom cursed at no one in particular about how unfair it all was. This wasn't the way things were supposed to turn out. He was one of the good guys, damn it! He was fighting for justice, no matter what it took to get it. He'd crossed so many lines, made so many compromises but it had been with justice as the goal. If you were going to clean up a sewer, you had to get your hands dirty.

The bullets were coming closer now. Tom knew he was running out of options. He could stop and try and shoot it out, but that was suicide. He doubted they would just let him surrender. He kept running but knew they were gaining on him. It was unfair and if he got out of this somebody was going to pay.

Movement in front of him sent his instincts on overload. A car had stopped and the passenger side door opened. A wisp of smoke slowly billowed out and then he saw her, Suzette.

"If you'd like to live, get in."

There wasn't any time to ponder it, as the bullets whizzed by his head. Tom dove into the front seat and Suzette gunned the engine and tore off down the road. Tom scrambled up and glanced back through the rear window. He could see three men come into view and then stop as the car put more and more distance between them. He was safe, for now. Tom turned to look at his unlikely benefactor. Suzette had a satisfied smile on her face.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"Maybe I like the irony,' she offered. 'Nemesis indebted to a common whore, how does it feel?"

"You're still just a whore to me, Suzette,' he snapped.

"Such gratitude. Aren't you always the charmer, Mr. Nemesis,' she replied. "It must just grate on you that you're alive because of a whore, doesn't it?"

"Yes." He reluctantly admitted. "Now why don't you tell me the real reason you're helping me?'

"In a minute,' Suzette said. "You still haven't said the two magic words, Mr. Nemesis"

Tom gritted his teeth, hating that he was in her debt. The satisfied smile on her lips only made it worse. She was enjoying this, watching him squirm. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction, but as they glided down one street and turned on another he knew she wasn't going to say anything else until he gave in. One minute stretched into five and they remained silent. She seemed to have all the time in the world. Finally Tom swallowed his pride and said what she wanted to hear.

"Thank you."

Suzette beamed at this.

"Now that wasn't so hard, wasn't it?" she asked. "Yes, I supposed it was, wasn't it?"

"You're still just a whore."

Suzette suddenly pulled the car over and parked. She turned towards Tom and leaned back against the door. His words had no effect on her. For them to have an effect, she would have had to care what he thought. She didn't. Suzette felt about Tom the same way she felt about this car she was driving. Once it served its purpose, she would walk away and never give it another thought. If he really thought he could hurt her with just words, he was even more of an imbecile that she had first imagined. Slowly she raised her slender hand and pointed to a building down the street. Tom's eyes followed.

"It's a building in Paris, so?"

"The Council has sent a hit squad to Paris, did you know this, Mr. Nemesis?" She asked.

"Yes, of course I did,' he snapped.

"Good for you,' she replied. "Did you also know that very same hit squad is currently in that building right over there. The one I'm pointing to if you're not following."

Tom felt his heart race at this piece of information. If what she was saying was true, he could take the offensive for once, but could he trust her?

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You're not the only ones they are after, Mr. Nemesis."

"Why should I believe a word you say, Suzette?'

"Don't," she flatly replied. "It doesn't make the slightest difference to me what you believe. I'm simply passing on some information, what you do with it is up to you. Oh, if it matters, your man in Hong Kong, the informer, Kano? The men that killed him are the ones in that building."

Suzette reached into her purse and pulled out another cigarette. She lit it and blow smoke in Tom's face. Bitch, he thought, but if she was telling the truth the men that killed Kano were in there. He'd promised him before he died he would make them pay. Tom knew he was going in that building. He glanced dismissively at Suzette and then climbed out of the car. A quick check of his gun and then he disappeared into the shadows.

Suzette sat in the car leisurely smoking. She had mixed the truth with a few lies in what she told Nemesis. The men in the building were from the Council, but they were here to kill her and Julian, not Tom. Oh they would kill him if they had the chance, but that wasn't their primary mission. The part about the informant, Kano had been a complete lie, but only a small one. Suzette was reasonably sure the men in that building had killed quite a few people, maybe even Kano.

She waited until she heard shots starting. She dropped the rest of her cigarette out the window and pulled away. There was a smile on Suzette's lips.


Sarajevo

Diana turned off the water and stood silently in the shower. The last two days had been better than she could have imagined. She certainly didn't need a lasso to know the truth. She had fallen in love with him. It was really that simple. Part of her never wanted to leave this room. In here they were just Kal and Diana. The two of them were all that mattered. With all her heart she wished it could always remain like that, but wishing doesn't make it so.

He was leaving.

It was the unspoken fact that was always there. Diana didn't want him to go, but she would. She wasn't the sort of woman to whine or pout when she didn't get her way. She wasn't going to make him feel guilty about leaving, either. If anything, the last few days had shown her Kal was still a work in progress. He wasn't whole yet. She had spent hours memorizing his every feature while he was unconscious. She felt like she knew his face better than any other. She could almost tell what emotions he was struggling with, just from his expression. She was absolutely sure when he was pretending to be okay for her benefit. He was trying to be strong for her, but she could see how fragile he really was.

He was still dealing with his past. He was haunted by it still. Diana understood that Lois had been a huge part in his life. She would never ask him to forget her or what they had. Diana also understood these last few days hadn't been about Kal's past, it had been about now and them. She sensed he was struggling with it, the fact that he was moving on, yet not wanting to betray what used to be. She'd had a little taste of what it must be like to lose someone you love when he was unconscious. It was such a terrible, helpless feeling. It must be so hard to accept and let go. It would take time and she would gladly give that to him.

Now though, it was time to say goodbye.

Diana stepped out of the shower and dried herself off. She slipped into her clothes, took a deep breath and then walked back into the main room. He stood up when he saw her. She saw his bag was packed and sitting by the door. They looked into each other's eyes and there were so many words each wanted to say.

"You're leaving."

"Yes."

"All right."

She had accepted it, but she couldn't pretend to be happy about it. He seemed to falter and then stepped over to her. He started to speak, but Diana put her finger to his lips.

"Don't make any promises, Kal."

He looked at her and understood. His eyes dropped for a moment, but then he looked back into hers.

"I'd like to make one, Diana,' he whispered. "It's the only thing I'm completely sure of. This, you and I, it is not over."

He pulled her to him and kissed her, pouring all the emotions and words he couldn't express into the kiss. She returned it, letting it express everything she was feeling. Each wanted to linger in that moment, but eventually they both took a step back. She stood there waiting for him to say it, but with one last look, he turned, picked up his bag and walked out the door.

Diana stood looking at the closed door and felt a tear rolled down her cheek. Slowly a smile came to her lips as she realized he hadn't said goodbye. Goodbye meant it was over and he'd promised it wasn't. That was a promise she was going to hold him to.


Russia

News of the failed hit on Julian and Suzette on top of the failed assassination had the Russian mob in quite a state. Reports from Paris were confusing. Some said French gangsters had taken out their men, while others said it was Yakuza and still others said it was the Council. There were also whispers that the Americans were behind it.

Sasha Polchenko didn't care who was responsible. Someone was going to pay. At this point, the head of the Moscow syndicate didn't really care who it was anymore. He had learned his craft in the KGB before the fall of the Soviet Union. Lebanon had taught him a valuable lesson. When a terrorist group kidnapped a member of the Soviet delegation and held him for ransom, the next day twenty of the terrorists were hanging in front of the group's headquarters. The Soviet diplomat was released within hours. That demonstration had stayed with Sasha to this day.

If a terrorist attacks you, you teach them the meaning of the word terror. They kill one of yours, you kill all of them. The message was unmistakable; we are not people you want to fuck with.

Two of his men were dead in Paris. Another was dead in Sarajevo. Still another was in jail on attempted murder charges. His response was gong to be massive and swift. He already had fifty men on their way to Paris. Everyone was going to die.


Washington

Amanda Waller sat behind her desk reviewing the latest intelligence. The murder of Frasier was a problem. Up to this point she had not gotten involved with the case because of her prior dealings with Nemesis. She still didn't believe he was responsible, but that was rapidly becoming an irrelevant point. As long as he was on the loose he was a liability. He had knowledge of a highly sensitive nature at his disposal. That knowledge made him dangerous to Amanda and the Agency.

The whole business with the Senator's son brought unwanted attention. Questions were starting to be asked. Amanda didn't like questions or attention. Her job and the things she did were meant to remain in the shadows. People didn't really want to know how things were done, just that they were taken care of. That's what she did she took care of things. Now it seems she would have to take care of this situation.

She sat back for a moment and seemed to be looking off into space. If she had an actual Rolodex she would have been thumbing through it for a number she hadn't used in years. In her business you never get rid of any possible asset. It took her several minutes, but finally she remembered the number. Using a secure line she slowly dialed the number.


Paris

"Strange Fruit" by Billie Holiday was playing as Suzette arrived back at the apartment. Julian was stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed, enjoying the music. He shifted slightly as he felt her walk into the room. He watched her for a moment, as she set her bag down on the table. She opened and took out the car keys and tossed them on the table. She was just heading towards her room, when Julian finally spoke.

"Another date with the young government man?"

She stopped and turned towards him.

"Yes."

"Good, good, you should enjoy yourself while you're in Paris,' he replied. "How did that other matter go, by the way?"

"I put the two of them in the room together,' she said. "One or both won't come out."

"Well done," he said with a smile. "How about the car?"

"The car?" She seemed to almost have forgotten about. "I left it somewhere. I don't remember exactly. I'm sure someone will find it soon enough."

"I'm sure they will." Julian agreed with a nod. "Any idea which of them will come out of the building?'

"Does it matter?" She asked.

"No, but it would be nice to know,' he replied. Suzette seemed to think about it for a moment.

"If we are betting on who survived, I would put my money on Nemesis. Not that he's smarter or better, but he has the element of surprise on his side. I'm sure we'll find out in a day or so. Now, I should really get ready for my date, Julian. You wouldn't want me to be late, would you?"

"No, of course not, have fun,' he replied. Suzette flashed a smile, as she turned and walked into her room. Julian closed his eyes again, as the haunting voice of Billie Holiday washed over him. The song was just ending as the phone rang. Julian slowly sat up and answered it. He smiled when he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Well hello, Amanda, it's been a long time,' he cheerfully said.


Sarajevo

The train was crowded as Clark eased his way into the car. He found himself glancing out the window, but he knew she wouldn't be there. Tearful, waving goodbyes wasn't her style. Part of him wanted to get off the train and rush back to the hotel room, but she would already have left. If he were going to see her again, it would have to be after he dealt with everything.

As the train jerked and started out of the station, Clark suddenly remembered a book he'd once read, Night Mother by Kurt Vonnegut. He'd seen Vonnegut interviewed about it and the author had said the message of the book was rather simple. What we pretend to be, we end up being. As he watched the city slip away behind him, Clark wondered if he started pretending to be the man he wanted to be when he next saw her, would he become that man? He hoped so. He might even wish it, but …