John unloaded the groceries onto his counter and fumbled with his phone before he rescued it from his pocket to answer it. "John Bates."

"You still shouldn't use your full name over the phone."

He froze, the Irish voice on the other end of the line sending his blood running cold in his veins. "Vera?"

"The one and only." She sighed, "You had to stick your nose in and now they'll cut it off Johnny."

"What are you talking about?" John pivoted in place, looking over his house as he continued on the line. "How'd you get this number?"

"I worked in intelligence, Johnny, and I'd like to think I always had more of it than you did." It almost sounded like a cackle on her end of the line. "But I guess you didn't have enough to avoid Richard."

"Oh yeah?" John paused, "And what'd Dick tell you about me?"

"That he's put a contract out on you."

"I thought you wrangled it so he wouldn't."

"It stipulated you'd know to sodding keep away." Vera's beleaguered sigh on the other side of the phone almost had John grinding his teeth but he contained himself. "You were supposed to put our daughter over this."

"I did and he's the one who threatened Catherine first." John squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to keep his breathing easy. "If he'd kept the hell out of it this wouldn't have been an issue."

"You'd have dropped it all?"

"It's not my call but I would've tried to make sure I wasn't a bloody part of it." John pivoted at the sound of knuckles on his front door. "Look, if you want to protect our daughter, as you claimed when you left, then maybe you'll talk to your idiot boyfriend and call him off the scent."

"You kicked me out, John, so don't say anything as stupid as it being me who left." John waited through the pause on Vera's end of the line. "And he's on the warpath now so there's nothing I can do to stop him."

"Then I'll soothe whatever worry had you calling me in a tizzy and say that our daughter is safe. She's out of his way and going to be better for it."

"At least there's that."

"At least there's that." John agreed, frowning when he heard another sound but shrugging it off. "And it'll be the only comfort you have for awhile."

"Why'd you say that?"

"Because your boytoy threatened our daughter and he's tried to have me killed. I take that personally." John paused, "You tell him that he threw down the first glove and I'm returning it with a hand inside. The same hand I plan on using to choke the life out of him."

"Should I tell him that in those words?"

"Take them to heart for yourself too." John bit down on the inside of his cheek. "Because when I'm finished with him, I'll take you down too."

"I doubt that."

"Why, because we loved each other so much when we were married?"

"No. Because we still share a daughter. That's a connection we'll not lose John. Not ever."

"You've always thought the oddest things, Vera." John shook his head, even though she could not see him. "It won't stop me finally putting you where you belong like I should've so long ago."

He hung up the phone, turning to put it on the counter and handle his groceries, when a click froze him in place. Leaving his phone on the counter, John raised his hands and walked slowly back into the kitchen. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry John." Anna's hands held her gun steady but he noted the quiver of her chin. "I'm so sorry."

"What's going on?" John kept his hands up, noting the steadiness in her posture. "Why are you here?"

"Because if I don't kill you then my son dies."

John almost dropped his jaw. "What?"

"If I don't kill you then Henry's dead." Anna's hands almost dropped. "Him, my parents, Jeff's parents, and whatever other family members end up as collateral. All of them'll be…"

"I understand but…" John struggled for words. "We could work this out, Anna. We can find another-"

"There's no other way. Not after I…" Anna stopped herself. "I killed Green. It was reactionary and stupid but he threatened my family and I smashed his windpipe with a sodding copy of Wuthering Heights."

"You what?"

"I buggered myself and this is the only way out of it." Anna coughed through a sob, "So either you kill me here, and I did my best and my family'll join me in the whatever hereafter Jeff's already waiting for me in, or I kill you and I've saved my family for a minute… Until the next baddies come around."

"Anna it's not impossible, we'll-"

"No." She cut him off, the sharp snap to the end of her statement almost making John jump. "This is the only way."

John lowered his arms. "Then shoot me, Anna. Because I won't fight you and I… I can't imagine leaving you alone." He almost gave a little laugh. "Even from the start I don't think I ever could. When they told me the job… I knew I couldn't the second I laid eyes on you."

"I… I need you to fight me, John." Anna's arms spasmed a second. "I can't do this if you're not… It's for Henry but I can't if you're not…"

"Just think about him then." John risked a few steps forward, stopping when the distance between the barrel and himself was so small no one could possibly miss him. "Do it and go home to your son. I can take it."

Anna shook her head, one of her hands falling from holding the gun steady to put the barrel to his chest. "I don't want to."

"I understand." John soothed, "It's what you've got to do so you can go home to your son and have your family. Keep them, Anna."

"What about your mother?" Anna shook her head, "What about Catherine?"

"They're together and they'd understand." John gave a small smile. "Especially Catherine. She'll understand."

"She shouldn't have to... She shouldn't have to understand." Anna closed her eyes and John could almost feel the heat from her tears. "We're so stupid. We've… We've done this to ourselves because we were so sodding stupid."

"I know but…" John swallowed, "She's with her grandmother. She's got someone and she'll be fine."

"But it's not fine."

"It'll be alright, Anna." John closed his eyes, only peeking slightly to see Anna's resolve falter slightly. "It'll all be alright."

"No." The barrel lowered slightly. "It's not going to be alright."

John moved. The palm of his hand drove the gun away from his chest, redirecting the barrel, and his other hand grabbed Anna's wrist. With a sharp strike he dislodged the gun and it dropped to the floor. The clatter of the metal on the floor loosened John's fingers from Anna's wrist.

The second Anna's wrist was free, her fingers curled into her palm and John staggered back the moment her fist impacted his jaw. His hand caught the edge of the counter and he righted himself. But only enough to catch the full force of Anna's kick to his midriff.

It sent him back into the wall, knocking the breath from him, and John only just dodged to the side when Anna kicked out again. His hip hit the counter and he pivoted to catch himself as his foot slipped on the gun on the floor. John fell to his knee and spun around, his fist striking into Anna's abdomen as she came in from another blow.

Anna slid back into the table, giving John a minute to get to his feet. He kicked the gun away as he dodged Anna's next strike but took the brunt of her strike on his cheekbone when she jumped up and brought her fist around for the hit. It blended into a combo when her leg came around to crack between his collarbone and neck.

John tumbled sideways, landing hard on the gun, and curled up his forearms to catch the kick Anna aimed for his stomach. His hand wrapped around her ankle and yanked forward to upset her balance. Slipping on the floor, Anna flailed to catch something but missed. She landed hard on the floor, hitting with enough force to send the reverberations through John's arm, and he released her to scramble to his feet. The movement disturbed the gun, sending it spinning over the floor again so John slipped on it to stumbled as he headed for the sitting room.

Something impacted his back and John tried to reach back around. But an arm wrapped around his throat to tighten and leave John gasping for air. His knees hit the floor as he grabbed at Anna's arm but her grip only secured to leave black dotting the edges of his vision. So, with few other options, John collapsed forward.

The speed of his fall and the immediate limpness he forced on himself, despite the scream of his lung for air, gave John the second of release he needed. Anna's grip loosened and he waited a moment, breathing as slowly as his air-starved lungs would allow, before moving. A roll, a twist, and a sweep left Anna hitting the coffee table before landing on her ass.

John got to his feet, fumbling for something to use as a distraction or a temporary weapon. His fingers settled on one of his mother's knitting magazines as something crashed near his head. Instinctively ducking, John pivoted and raised his arms to catch the ceramic vase that flew toward his head. It knocked off his arms and he barely caught it before it hit the hardwood floor. A move that saved him a high kick Anna aimed for his chin.

Rolling the magazine, John snapped it at Anna's ankle and struck her in the side with it before finishing the triple strike with a blow to her jaw. It sent her a step to the side and John ducked another high kick to use the full impact of his weight to carry Anna into the sofa. Their combine weight almost buried her between the cushions but she wrapped her limbs around John, making it near impossible for him to extricate himself.

He reeled back, trying to peel Anna from him, and managed to get an arm near his head to prevent another choke hold. The same arm he folded around Anna to grab her clothes. His grip firmed and he tore himself from her hold. But the force ruined his balance and he fell back to break the coffee table.

Groaning from the floor, John rolled to avoid a stomping motion and scrambled back toward the kitchen. He grabbed the jamb and worked himself to his feet so his forearms could come together to form a block for Anna's kick. It bruised the bone but John snapped his arm out and his fist caught Anna between the eyes. Eyes that almost rolled back into her head as, John was sure, she blacked out for a second due to the impact.

But he had not time to check if she was alright as Anna's next action had her knee literally jerking to catch him in the groin. The pain watered his eyes and John only avoided putting his hands there due to training. He went to his knees and hit the ground on his side. A position that put his eye line on the gun.

The half-second when they both realized had them tearing for it at the same time. Anna tossed a chair out of the way, sending it clattering into John's forgotten groceries so eggs and milk and other produce burst over the kitchen, and jumped another to slide over the table. John dove underneath it and barely missed the gun, accidently knocking it out of his reach.

Almost upending the table as he tried to stand, John lurched for the gun again but Anna knocked a chair into his legs to trip him. John landed on his back on the floor, bruises blooming over his skin in time with the pain, as he heard the sound of the gun leaving the floor. The same gun he forced himself to stop when he impacted Anna's legs.

She flailed, trying to keep her balance, but they tangled and moved, both grasping and struggling together as they stood. Then a sharp pain erupted in John's chest. He blinked, his brain fried and trying to send a number of signals at the same time but failed at all of them. Shaking fingers touched his chest and noted the wetness there before his knees buckled.

Given the nature of his body being one giant bruise, part of John was not surprised that he could not feel the impact of hitting the floor. In fact, he only knew he was there because he could see the counter. The same one dripping egg and milk as it pooled closer and closer to where he was. Odd the things one thought about when the world darkened around them.

"No!" John blinked at the distant clatter of the gun. The one he fought so hard to get away from Anna. The one that still managed to get him.

"No!" Hands held his face and John tried to blink, to clear his vision, but everything about him went blurry. His senses fuzzed and his focus wavered, despite the sensation of hands on his face. Hands connected to the hazy view of Anna above him. "No, John, fight it."

John wanted to speak. To remind her it was okay. To hold her again. But his fingers would not obey his commands. Sensation leaked from his body like the ruined milk bottle on the corner that dripped in time with the slowing of his heartbeat in his ears.

He jerked, his body spasming in response to the nerves refusing to answer a brain as frantic as Anna's hands scrabbling over him. Hands he failed to feel. Hands he soon failed to see.

When his body impacted the ground for the last time, his muscles all succeeding in seizing him still, John barely heard Anna's voice. Darkness took over his vision and he succumbed to it as his brain fought to the valiant end. An end only played to the distant tune of Anna's pleading voice.

"Don't go. John don't go."

But he could not answer her. He could not obey her. As much as he wanted either of those things they both proved impossible.

As impossible as the idea that he could ever have done more than surrender to her from the moment he saw her.