I just had to share. I watched "Memory" with Liam Neeson last week, and oh my goodness, I could not stop thinking about this story and Lance's character (who I've based off of Neeson) the entire time. If you watch it, you'll see why! Even the trailer for it gives me chills and screams Lance (minus the losing his mind part) LOL.

Ghosts by Lorne Balfe

Nothing's Gonna Break Me by John Coggins

Dark Side by Eric Church

Dangerous by Johnny Reid

1980

London, U.K.

Rosie walked into her father's house and stood in his living room, bracing herself for what she knew was going to come. She stood with her feet apart and her hands behind her back. She did her best not to think about the memories of growing up in this house. Most of all, she tried not to think about her mother. It just hurt too much.

"Amelia," her father said, coming in a moment later. "Glad you came to your senses." He was buff for his age and stood straight and tall. Graying hair meshed with dark hair on his head and in his stubble. Icy blue eyes that were cold. Scars littered on his right arm in scattered patterns.

"I was blackmailed," she retorted.

"I prefer to view it as the right choice made upon receiving an ultimatum," he replied with a smile. Rosie clenched her jaw as she looked at him. That was her father's favorite thing to do to people: give them ultimatums. He claimed it hurt them more than death. He was right.

"Sit," he instructed. "We need to talk."

"You wanna tell me why you suddenly decided to ruin my life?" Rosie asked.

"You wanna tell me why you told your sister that I was dead and ran off with her to America?" he countered. She sat there staring at him, still grinding her jaw.

"I did it to protect her from you," she answered after a moment.

"Well," he scoffed. "You did a fine job. She's got herself an abusive husband and a demon son."

"She found another you," Rosie ground out back at him. "And her son is only five. You don't know he's a demon."

"Oh, trust me. If he's anything like me, he'll be one soon enough," her father said.

"You're gonna leave them all alone, right?" Rosie asked. "We made a deal."

"Yes. You go back to doing your job, the one you are advanced at and invaluable in, and your precious family will be left alone. You screw up, though, and all bets are off," he said, leaning in towards her. Rosie glared at him. Zeke Young was a violent, powerful man. She knew better than to challenge him too much. She had seen what he could do, and he had an army who would die for him. An army that was all over the world and hidden in plain sight.

"Hey, Dad?" her brother asked, coming in then and spying her. "Oh, hey traitor."

Rosie clenched her fists, biting back her reply.

"Colter," Zeke chastised. "Can't you see she's furious at me right now? Don't push her over the edge."

"Just tell me my next job so I can be on my way," she said. Her brother smirked at her. He was two years older than her, but since he was a teenager, he always acted like he'd been around much longer and knew things better. It drove her nuts. Carol had been the victim of his bullying a lot on top of their father's abuse. Carol was a very meek person, and she was the only one to not get into the "Family Business." Zeke said she took too much after their mother and would be useless. Rosie was glad they'd left her alone. After their mother died in the car accident, Carol relied on Rosie to be that motherly figure to her. She was three years younger than Rosie and had been 10 when they lost their mother.

"Here," Colter said, throwing Rosie a file. "Don't screw it up."

"Yea," Zeke added. "Try not to fall in love with this one this time."

"Shut up," she snarled.

"That's no way to speak to your father, Amelia Rose," he said sternly. Rosie did her best to not react, but she really wanted to throw the heaviest thing in the room she could find at his face. She tucked the folder under her arm and moved to walk away.

"Happy trails!" Colter called after her. She didn't look back. She didn't want them to see the sudden tears that were burning in her eyes.

...

Colter looked at his father, and he already knew what was coming down the line for Amelia. Zeke had made it pretty clear, and Colter did feel a bit bad for knowing about it. He just knew that he couldn't tell her without facing extreme consequences.

"You're not gonna wuss out on me, are you?" Zeke asked, making his meaning clear. When it was time to pick up Amelia's daughter and kill Harry, would he do it? At this moment, Colter wasn't entirely sure, but he wasn't about to admit that out loud. Yes, Harry had betrayed them, but Colter couldn't stop thinking in the back of his mind that maybe Harry had been right, which was something else he could never say out loud.

"No, sir," he replied obediently. They held each other's gaze for a moment.

"You don't have anything you're hiding from me, do you?" Zeke asked.

"No, sir," Colter answered again, feeling the lie push against his throat...wanting to escape and be free. It would be costly if it did. He swallowed. His father's stare was piercing, and he felt like Zeke could read his mind.

"Good," he said finally. "Now, I have work for you too." He went around to his desk and pulled out a file. Colter took it with a nod. Then he left.

As he walked away, he thought about everything that had led up to who he was today. He knew he'd be a different person if he had a different father. As it was, he was stuck with this, and he had to be okay with it.

But maybe one day, he could be free.

Montana, U.S.

Carol worked hard to swallow down her tears. Ever since Rosie had died, she'd find herself bawling out of the blue or standing and staring at nothing. Greg did not like when she didn't get chores done or supper on the table for him, so she knew she couldn't keep doing this. She didn't want his wrath right now.

"I WANT A COOKIE NOW!" Simon screamed. She closed her eyes. This was something else she was struggling with. Simon seemed to have gone off the rails with his behavior lately, and she couldn't control it. She knew he was taking after Greg, and it terrified her.

"You cannot have anymore today," she told him as calmly as she could. She ducked the flying fork.

"I HATE YOU!"

Dear Lord. He was five and already saying he hated her. She fought down more tears.

"You don't mean that, sweetheart," she said. "You're just upset right now, and it will pass."

"NO! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

Carol clenched and unclenched her fist. She wondered if it would even work, backhanding him. It certainly worked for Greg when he backhanded her. She did what she could do because unlike Greg, her son was not able to inflict the same level of physical pain and thus couldn't hurt her physically. She leaned down in front of him, still calm.

"Well, you go right on ahead and hate me," she said to his face. "Cos I'd rather you hate me then have you grow up to be a selfish person because I just gave you everything you ever wanted. Boundaries are a good thing. Deal with it, darling." She resisted smiling at his shocked expression before straightening up and going back to making dinner.

At least he stopped screaming at her. Point for her, but she knew it would happen again. She feared her son really did hate her, and it seemed like it was only getting worse as time went on.

She had no idea how to fix it.

...

Lance stared at the diaper in his hand and his infant on her back staring up at him with a fist in her mouth. He was pretty sure he was doing this wrong. The nurse had shown him, but he'd already forgotten, and he had no idea that babies crapped so much.

He tried putting it on and then stood back to examine it. Rita just blinked. He shook his head.

"No, that's not right," he said, taking it off and trying it again. "No, still not right..."

He tried a few more times before he got it on successfully.

"Ha!" he exclaimed gleefully. "See, Rita? I've got this."

She made a noise in her throat that could almost be construed as worry. He smiled and picked her up, heading for the crib.

"My Little Lady," he said, setting her down and getting her comfortable before leaning on the crib to watch her. "You're gonna grow up to be a raving beauty on me, aren't you? I'm gonna have to put some buckshot into some boy's arses, aren't I?"

He reached to let her grab his finger, and he tried not to feel sad that Rosie was going to miss out on all of this. He wiggled his finger and smiled again. He could do this. It would be a long journey, but he could do this.

It was the nights that were the hardest. Sleeping without her was torture. He constantly reached for her to find her place empty, and it hurt every time. He felt cold without her wrapping around him from behind to keep him warm. He even missed her little snores that she heavily denied she did. He didn't think the pain would ever get better, but he knew he had to deal with it in order to be a good father to Rita. He didn't want to let her down; she needed him.

So, he'd be there for her. Whatever it took.

London, U.K.

Jess was cleaning her guns in the basement when Johnny came down into the room. She slowed, giving him a wary look. It was hard to tell some days when he was going to be aggressive or not. She remembered the old version of himself that never lifted a hand towards her. She wondered for the millionth time where it had gone.

"Amelia's back in the game," he commented, crossing his arms and leaning back against the workbench.

"Good for her," Jess said sarcastically.

"I'm going with her," he added. She snapped her head to look at him. Johnny was going with Amelia on a mission? What was this?

"Why?" she asked, feeling the jealousy rise inside of her. She knew once upon a time Johnny had a thing for Amelia, not that Amelia ever showed an inkling of interest in return.

"Basically to babysit her," Johnny answered. "Colter doesn't want to do it."

"I see."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," he said, moving behind her and pulling her into him. Sometimes she liked rough, but today she wasn't interested. She tolerated his lips on her neck because she didn't want him to punch her right now either.

"I'm not," she said.

"I married you, didn't I?" he asked, smacking her behind a little too hard. "Don't tell me I picked the wrong woman."

Jess said nothing as he laughed to himself and went back up the stairs. She finished cleaning her guns and rested her hands on the workbench, thinking. Technically, he didn't pick her. She was one of the last few left who was involved in this line of work, and they'd just sort of fallen together and stayed together when she'd come back from Brendan. She fallen back on her former crush of him and knew there was no sense in looking anywhere else for a spouse. He'd always been impish and a bit of a jerk at times, but he'd been a bit sweeter back then, back when they'd first been put together in Zeke's training room. Her, Johnny, and Colter...among a few others who she'd never seen again and barely remembered. Zeke didn't let many people meet him face to face...he was usually just a voice on the phone or had someone else give out the jobs on his behalf, but he had a select few that he dedicated more time with and worked with. She and Johnny had been two of them. She knew Colter was Zeke's son; Johnny was his best friend and high up in rank in Zeke's mind. No one had known about Amelia training until she was 17, which was exactly Zeke's intention. They'd thought she was just one of the sisters, not a secret weapon being trained in the background.

And it always surprised her that Johnny still thought he could have picked Amelia when it had been made very clear by Amelia that she was not interested in him at all. She wondered why he couldn't let that go.

Days Later

Japan

Rosie looked through the scope of her sniper rifle and held her breath, getting ready to take the shot. When it all lined up, she pulled the trigger, watching her target crumple to the ground.

"Nice shot," Johnny commented, chewing his gum and looking through his binoculars.

"Why are you here again?" Rosie asked, feeling annoyed as she disassembled her rifle and packed it back into its case. She searched for the bullet casing next.

"To make sure you don't fall in love with this target and run off with them, get married, have their baby...you know," Johnny replied, tucking his binoculars back into his backpack. "Just keeping an eye on you is all."

"Colter could have done that."

"He was sent elsewhere," Johnny said.

"I see."

They hurried down the stairs together, and Rosie felt the blood pumping through her veins at full speed. She had forgotten the adrenaline rush a kill would give her.

"Did you miss it?" Johnny asked, looking at her face now.

"No," she answered sharply, yanking open the door and pushing through it. "I wanted to leave this life behind me for good."

"Well, Amelia," Johnny said, unlocking their car when they approached it, "you and I both know what happens when you try to leave."

"Don't remind me," she muttered, getting into the passenger seat after tucking her rifle in the trunk under blankets. Johnny drove off quickly, and she rested her chin in her hand as the world passed her by through the window. She thought about Lance. She thought about Rita. She ached with missing them both. She wondered if Rita would ever forgive her if she found out Rosie was still alive. She wondered if Lance would.

She knew she would for him if roles were reversed.

Months Later

Montana, U.S.

Rita was almost six months old. Lance couldn't believe it. He also couldn't believe that his sister-in-law Carol was sleeping in his room with Simon in the room down the hall after leaving Greg. Even after he and Rosie had told her repeatedly to do it, it still felt surreal that she'd actually done it.

He slept like crap on that couch night after night. Thank goodness Rita slept through the night more and more now. He had no idea how he'd function if she didn't. She was growing so fast, and he was constantly learning things. Rosie's friend (and their neighbor), Lucy, had been a Godsend, helping him out when needed, and Carol had been too when she could sneak the time in without Greg catching her.

Now, Carol had quit work and offered to stay home with Rita, which allowed him to return to the garage to work. His boss was happy about that, and even though Lance felt separation anxiety at leaving Rita all day, he found himself enjoying the space too. Simon was in kindergarten, but Carol had pulled him out for now to avoid Greg coming to take him away. Lance knew she was nervous being alone at the house after Greg came there looking for her, but his other neighbor, Kenny, promised to keep an eye out for any trouble.

Lance also had a plan.

"Have a good night," his boss said as they walked towards their cars in the lot out back behind the garage. Lance waved and smiled as he opened his car door and got in. He sat there for a moment, looking at himself in the rear view mirror. He'd left this part of himself behind a long time ago, but he wasn't about to let Carol get bullied into going back or get killed if she didn't, which he suspected Greg would do. He cracked his neck. It was time.

...

Lance found Greg at his favorite bar. He sat in his car and watched him go inside. He waited a while before he saw Greg pulling out a woman by her hand into the alley out back. Lance decided to make his move, the anger pulsing through his veins. He always suspected Greg was cheating on Carol, but seeing the proof really pissed him off. He knew if he confronted, Greg would just scoff and claim it had started after Carol had left him. He pulled up his hood and walked down the street towards the alley. He slipped on his brass knuckles the closer he got.

He could hear the woman making noises and rounded the corner to find Greg pressing her up against the side of the building. A quick glance showed there were no cameras back here. He gave a high pitched whistle, and Greg nearly dropped her, making her cry out in pain when he overcorrected to catch her and rammed her against the wall.

"Who the hell are you?" Greg demanded. Lance ignored him and looked at the woman. He knew his face was hidden in the shadows.

"Leave," he ordered her. "Now."

She hustled by without a sound, and Greg stood there glaring at him.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are," he started, but Lance didn't let him finish. He swung hard, the brass knuckles connecting with Greg's face and making a very satisfying cracking sound. Lance didn't hold back as he struck the man again and again. He'd been very quick in his fighting days, and today was no exception. Greg went down after a few more blows, and Lance didn't even let up for a second. When Greg was pouring blood from everywhere and crying while trying not to cry (it was almost comical to watch), Lance straightened up and stood over him.

"I know...it's you..." Greg rasped.

"Good," Lance said. "Then you already know I have no regrets and don't feel sorry at all."

"F*** you," Greg spat, trying to get up.

"You should have just left her alone," Lance said, bending down to Greg's ear. "You should have just let her go. I wouldn't have to kill you."

"You man enough...to do it? You ever...take a man's...life before?" Greg asked slowly, breathing hard. Lance looked him right in the eye from the shadow of his hood. He smiled.

"153 lives, to be exact," Lance replied. "See you in hell, Greg." He saw the shock and horror on Greg's face as he reached out and snapped the man's neck in one swift motion. He stood up and walked away, feeling the adrenaline rush. He got to his car and climbed into it. Then he pulled off his hood and removed his brass knuckles. He wrapped them in a plastic bag, planning on washing them later and then hiding them again. He sat there for a moment, letting it sink in. He pulled out his wallet and smoothed the photo of Rita out with his thumb.

"My last one," he vowed. "I promise. I left that life behind for good, and I'm not about to get back into it now."

He tucked it back away and let out a sigh. He sometimes wished he had been brave enough to fight back eight years ago, but he was fighting an invisible army. He knew there were many other assassins like him around the world, and he knew he wouldn't stand a chance if he went after Zeke. That was made very clear. It was easier to run, but Lance wasn't sure if that had really made a difference. He sometimes felt like he had a deadline, and he wanted Rita away from him when time ran out. Perhaps it was time to think of an escape plan to keep her safe. Feeling a sense of resolve, he started his car and backed it up, pulling out onto the street and driving home.

He didn't look back once.

1981

Montana, U.S.

Carol was humming to herself as she dried the dishes. Simon was coloring at the table. Rita was sitting in her high chair pushing around cheerios and making different sounds. She was one now, and she was a very observant learner.

"Mum?" Simon asked.

"Yes?"

"Is Dad in heaven?"

The question threw her off guard completely. Simon didn't ask a lot about Greg, but ever since she'd told him his father was dead, he would randomly bring him up.

"I don't know, sweetie," she answered truthfully. She looked into Simon's eyes and saw that he, in this moment, didn't look sad at the idea of his father not being there. Simon knew how bad things got in that house, and she felt so guilty for all the times she'd had to pull him out from under wherever he was hiding to tell him he was okay. Then there were times where Simon had hit and yelled at her, mimicking Greg. She hated that she'd stayed so long and got her son confused on how to treat someone you love.

Carol hadn't felt sad at all when the police had come to tell her Greg had been killed in a bar fight. They'd found him in the alleyway beaten with a broken neck, and she hadn't cried or anything. She'd cried in relief later, but she hadn't felt sad. When she'd told Lance, he hadn't said anything either. He'd just pulled her into an embrace and told her everything was gonna be okay.

She believed him.

"Are you gonna marry Uncle Lance?" Simon asked next.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Carol said with a laugh. She blushed, though. Lance had let her live with him after Greg died, and she'd noticed lately that they were touching each other a bit more and spending more time together. He could make her laugh, and she could make him blush. Maybe he was falling for her. Maybe she was falling for him too. They shared grief, and that could bind people together better than anything. She didn't think her sister would mind. Rosie always wanted Carol to be happy after all, but it did feel a bit strange at times. Carol wasn't sure what to think of it.

"I don't want you to," Simon went on, coloring again. "I don't like Uncle Lance."

Carol raised a brow despite him not looking at her.

"Why don't you like him?"

"I just don't."

"Well, I think you'll come around after a while."

"I won't."

Carol felt her skin tingling. Her son had mellowed out a little since Greg had been gone, proving that he'd been feeding off of his father's rages and behaviors, but he would still have his moments. She felt worried about him not liking Lance. She didn't know what that would mean in the future. Simon already ignored Rita and didn't have much to do with her. She kept hoping that perhaps her son might have a good shot at being a good person after all if he would just try.

London, U.K.

""The bird...flew...west,'" Luke was reading slowly. Jess had him on her lap with the book in her hands. He was smoothing his finger under the words as he read. She'd been working with him on reading for a while, and he finally was picking up on it better and better.

"Good job, Luke," she said now, kissing the side of his head. "You're doing it!" Her son smiled up at her, and she felt her heart melt. God, she loved him.

And he had Brendan's smile.

Boots clomping up the walk indicated Johnny was home. Jess involuntarily clenched, and even Luke stopped making a sound, both of them anticipating the worst. The door opened, and her husband stood there with the remaining bit of his cigarette burning in his clenched lips and a bag of booze in his hand.

"What?" he asked her, seeing her looking. His voice was muffled by the cigarette.

"Nothing," she answered quickly. "How was your day?"

"Fine," he replied. He kicked his boots off and put the beer in the fridge. He stubbed out his cigarette on the ash tray on the table on the way by. Jess watched him walk past, and she relaxed a little when he went to their room without another word.

Perhaps tonight would be a calmer night after all.

"I'm hungry, Mummy," Luke said now.

"Me too," Jess agreed, closing the book. "Let's make supper, shall we?"

"Okay!"

She smiled as her son lurched off her lap and raced to the kitchen. He loved cooking with her, and she enjoyed his company. While prepping, she watched as Johnny came out to the living room and snapped on the TV, blaring the news. She wished she could read his mind, but his face was relaxed, so she thought maybe he was having a good day today. That'd be nice for a change.

"Daddy?" Luke said, going over to him now. Jess held her breath, hoping for a good response from Johnny.

"Yes?" he replied, sliding his gaze to Luke now.

"Can I bring you an appuhteaser?"

Jess sucked on her cheeks to stop from laughing. It was so damn cute when he tried to say adult words.

Be nice, she mentally said to Johnny. Please.

To her relief, Johnny chortled with laughter and reached to scoop Luke up in one swoop, making her son giggle. He stood, sliding Luke around to hang onto his back, and came over to her.

"I hear there's appuhteasers in here," he said, pressing his face against her neck gently. "I'm definitely interested."

She turned and popped a piece of cheese into his mouth, and he smiled as he chewed slowly before pretending to drop Luke and making him squeal. She almost started to cry with how normal this was, how good he was being right now. This was the person she missed. Why couldn't he stay like this?

"Come on, boy," Johnny said, moving towards the front door. "Let's get dirty."

"Not too dirty!" Jess called after him, and he just laughed and shut the door behind them. She watched them through the window. To see them play was so nice.

She knew she'd treasure this memory forever.

...

Rosie didn't have to look up to know her brother was standing behind her. She continued to sharpen her knives, trying to ignore the ache inside of knowing her daughter was now a one year old infant. She didn't know what to think about Carol living with Lance, but she was glad her sister had left that cheating bastard finally. Finding out Greg was dead was even better. She was fairly confident Lance had done it. He would protect those he loved no matter the cost.

"Why the hell were you in America?" Colter asked finally. She didn't answer right away, still sharpening the knife in her hand. Then she set it down and turned to face him.

"Work," she answered.

"You're not allowed to go there."

"It's still a free country," she retorted.

"Not for you it isn't," he said, moving closer. Rosie sometimes wondered what it would have been like if her family had been normal. Would she and Colter have a different relationship? Would they have bonded? Would they all have stuck together and married and had kids and done weekly family dinners? How was it that she got born into a family of killers? Well, her mother wasn't, and neither was Carol. She envied them, even though her mother was dead.

"If you had a kid, you'd want to check up on them too," she shot at him. He snorted.

"It ain't my fault that you did it the wrong way," he said. "If you'd met someone normal and done it that way, you'd still have your family."

"Harry is normal in your eyes. He was one of us!"

"He betrayed us!" Colter snarled. "And the fact that he's allowed to walk around breathing really pisses me off!"

Rosie knew that Colter had worked with Harry for a bit. Harry had never met Rosie until Montana. Zeke had kept Rosie a secret from everyone, even Colter. She'd never forget how shocked Colter was to find her geared up for a top secret mission one day when she was 17 years old. Zeke rarely even met his assassin employees face to face, and they didn't know his last name. He would make calls sometimes. Other times, someone else did it for him. He had his favorites, though: Johnny and Jess being on that list. Rosie recalled hanging out in the background of that little gang that also consisted of her brother, observing.

"Don't you ever wonder why we're not allowed to ask questions?" Rosie asked. "Don't you ever wonder why we can't quit until we're too old or are sick? Don't you ever want a life with a family and a normal job?"

"No," Colter answered. "This is normal for me. This is my life. Someone has to do this shit, Amelia, or else the world falls apart. Someone has to make sure the bad guys don't take over."

"And what if they aren't bad guys?" she challenged.

"If they're a target, then they're a bad guy."

"Harry disagreed."

"Harry was wrong."

"Was he?" she asked. "Did you ever think to check? Harry saved that child, so maybe he knew something you didn't. Then you put a hit out on him for using his own brain." She saw something flicker in his eyes, and she knew then that he clearly struggled with this same thought but refused to voice it or agree with it.

"That's the price of not doing a job," Colter growled.

"And yet Dad sent me to go finish Harry off," Rosie said, tilting her head at him. "I wonder why that was?" She'd taken the opportunity to get Carol away from their father. She'd lied to Carol, telling her Zeke was dead of a heart attack. Carol had no hard feelings about leaving Colter behind and was eager to go start fresh somewhere else, and Rosie had seen her sister happier than she'd been since their mother died when they moved to Montana. Then, unfortunately, she'd met Greg.

Colter fumed and growled. He moved away from her only to keep coming back and clenching his fists.

"I'm just saying," Rosie said, moving back to her table of weapons. "Maybe this whole thing has something dodgy going on with it, and maybe we should find out."

"Stay out of America," Colter ordered, ignoring her. "Keep your damn nose clean, and shut up about everything else!" She knew it scared him, challenging their father. His getting mad was his way of showing fear. Once upon a time, her brother had smiled at her and made her laugh; he'd listen when she needed to talk. She recognized that he stopped showing he cared in order to avoid trouble, that he bullied Carol because he had nowhere else to release his aggression towards Zeke and thought it would make her tougher, and that he'd been put under pressure by Zeke to be just like him.

"Okay, Colter," she said softly. "I will."

"Good."

"You're not gonna hurt my family, are you?" she asked next, and she took in his expression. He knew something, and she had an idea as to what. "Please, Colter. Don't."

"Don't piss him off then," Colter advised. He said nothing else as he stormed off. Rosie reached into her pocket and pulled out the photo she'd secretly taken of Lance and Rita. Her little family. They looked happy enough, but she could see the sadness in Lance's eyes.

She gave the photo version of Rita a kiss and then Lance before putting the picture back into her pocket. She hoped her father never reneged on his deal, that he left her sister and Rosie's family the hell alone.

She'd have to kill him if he didn't.