Songs I listened to while writing this chapter:

When You're Home (Dzeko Remix) by Tyler Shaw

Come Clean by Hilary Duff

Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin ft. Lacey Sturm

Neela Drifts by Brian Tyler

Iris by Goo Goo Dolls

Drive My Soul by Lights

1993

Montana, U.S.

Luke slowly adapted to the routine of his new life. He got up early with Lance to do the morning chores. He cleaned up after breakfast while Rita got ready for school and went out for the bus. He spent the rest of the day practising Russian and Spanish and worked out, which was the extent of what Lance wanted him to do for now. If Luke was honest, it was a bit of a relief to not be doing missions right now or learning other assassin-type things. He was still having nightmares about Johnny, Brendan, and the target he'd killed.

They'd talked about his going to school, and because he had been homeschooled by his curriculum-inexperienced biological father and was a bit behind, Lance had created a very convincing story for the school so they wouldn't ask too many questions. They'd done some tests with Luke, and it was agreed Luke would fall back a year to catch up. Luke didn't mind. He wanted to have his schooling done well, and even though he'd felt like he'd learned more from his father, he understood there were certain things he needed to catch up on to be in line with what the school wanted. For now, he worked, and when he wasn't busy, he was loaned out to Kenny next door to help with his ranch. He liked Kenny. The guy was funny and very patient when teaching him things. There was no sudden explosion of anger from him if Luke messed up either. The other neighbor, Lucy Fields, had a granddaughter she was raising named Keira. Keira's dad was dead, and her mom had taken off years ago and never came back. Keira was six, and she liked being around Luke. He had to admit, the little girl was very precious and cute with her wild auburn hair all over the place more often than not and her big, green eyes. She'd won many a cookie from Kenny with those eyes. She was a curious child with lots of questions, but Luke didn't mind. Neither did Kenny, who took his time explaining everything to her.

Luke was staying in a room that he'd concluded used to be Simon's, based on the carved name "Simon" in the side of the desk. He'd mentioned it to Lance, and he got shut down pretty quickly and told to never talk about Simon. Luke had no idea what had happened, but he figured it wasn't his business, so he kept quiet about it.

Luke didn't mind Lance's farm. It was tucked away from the road with trees lined up both sides of the long driveway. The house and barn were close to the high rock wall behind them. A trail led up over a hill just past the barn and followed a river before splitting off into a different direction when the woods started. Then there was a fenced in field that butted up to Kenny's flat acreage for the donkey and the horse. He found himself drawn to the horse the most; he couldn't explain why. Something about her brought him peace inside. It was where he was standing currently, one hand running up and down her nose slowly.

"She likes you," Rita said now, making him turn his head to see her walking towards him. He withdrew his hand on instinct. His mother had taught him to never let anyone see that you liked something because then it could be used as leverage or taken away.

"Oh yea?" he asked.

"Yea. She never lets strangers touch her so quickly."

"Huh," Luke said. He kept his distance from Rita. Lance wasn't kidding when he said she was becoming a beautiful young woman. She looked older than 13. Luke would keep his promise, though. He'd keep his distance, and he wouldn't fall for her when she got older.

"You are an interesting guy," Rita said, leaning against the fence now and offering Willow a sugar cube. The horse sucked it up eagerly before licking her palm.

"How's that?"

"You don't talk much, but your eyes are saying a lot."

Luke chuckled and looked away from her, scanning for Lance. Would he get in shit for talking to her? Lance hadn't said ignore her entirely, had he? She was looking at him now, and he couldn't very well ignore her entirely when she was standing right in front of him.

"What are they saying?" he asked, partly curious.

"That you're in pain," she answered simply. He was slightly taken aback. How was it that she was intuitive enough to see that in him? Could she see what he saw? Could she see Brendan dying in front of him or Johnny falling to the floor in shock with bullet holes in him? Could she see his target falling down dead and their wife screaming in horror? Could she see that he didn't know who he really was? That the only thing he was sure of was that his middle name was "Brendan" because Brendan was really his father?

"Right now they're saying you're confused as to how I know that," she pointed out.

"I think you need to stop noticing such things," Luke commented.

"It's kind of hard when it's right in front of me. It was blatantly obvious the moment you walked through the front door."

"Look, I'm not supposed to talk to you," he said, growing impatient now. If Lance caught him...

"My dad told you not to?"

"That's right."

"Well, he's always at me for making friends, so he can't be mad at me for doing that."

"Trust me, you don't want to be my friend," Luke told her. He knew he was right, but the lonely part of him inside was aching for it. He'd been unsuccessful in Australia to create meaningful friendships, but he'd never had a girl as a friend before. That might be different.

"That's where you're wrong," Rita said, leaning forward slightly.

"Rita..."

"If you let me," she cut him off, holding up her hand, "I will be the best damn friend you'll ever have. I can promise that."

Luke stood there looking at her, and something inside of him told him to accept this friendship, that he wouldn't regret it. It told him that he could trust her and that his life would be better if he did.

"I'm older than you," he tried.

"Pfft, I don't care," she snorted. "And by three whole years...big whoop. Have you looked around? My other friends are a horse, a donkey, and some goats. I tried having one friend at school, but she lost interest when I didn't join in on the whole make up thing. I don't care how old you are. I'd befriend you if you were 80 years old. Someone once told me to trust my gut when it came to trusting people, and after watching you this past while, my gut says I can trust you. My horse's response to you is also telling me I can trust you, so I want to. Something about you speaks to me, and I want to be there for you."

He felt very touched. This girl that he barely knew wanted to be there for him. He also knew that she wasn't saying it out loud but she wanted him to be there for her too, and he suddenly wanted to be there for her. He suddenly knew that he'd do anything for her, and he didn't know where that came from, but he didn't question it.

"Alright," he said. "But can we keep it on the down low so I don't lose my head at the hand of your father?"

"Alright," she agreed. She held out her hand. "Friends?" He looked at it, wondering about how long it had been since he'd had human contact with someone outside of his mother. Australia and his two sort-of-friends had been a few years ago after all. He reached to shake it slowly.

"Friends," he said.

...

Lance heard the shouting and lurched out of bed, disoriented. He noticed the clock say it was almost three in the morning, and his first thought was that an intruder was in his house. He grabbed his hidden pistol that was taped to the back of his headboard and went down the hall. Rita's room was clear, so he started for the stairs and went down them slowly. His heart was pounding, and he started to think that having Luke here had invited trouble after all.

Luke.

His brain registered that was where the shouting was coming from. He slid the gun into the drawer of the hutch in the hall at the bottom of the stairs before going into the boy's room and turning on the lamp.

"Hey," he said, shaking Luke awake. "Son, wake up. It's alright." Luke woke up fighting, and Lance blocked the punches easily enough. The boy was sweating and panting.

"Sorry," Luke said once he recognized Lance. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine."

"I'm good," Luke added. Lance nodded and patted the boy's shoulder before moving to leave. He looked back to see Luke hugging his knees tightly and looking like he might throw up.

"You wanna talk about it?" he offered. Luke looked at him, surprise on his face.

"Um...no. No, it's okay," he said eventually.

"You don't ever forget your first kill," Lance told him, knowing exactly what Luke had been nightmaring about. "Did anyone debrief with you about it?"

"Not really."

"Well, consider this a debrief then," Lance said, moving to check the hall for Rita eavesdropping before closing the door and going back to sit on the end of Luke's bed. Luke had turned the lamp on now, casting a yellow glow around the room. Lance waited him out, knowing he was processing it all.

"I didn't expect to care so much about someone I'd never met," Luke finally said. "I mean, I'd done recon and knew their routine and stuff, but still. The agony on her face...I can't stop seeing it."

"Even the most terrible people in the world can have someone who loves them. Most of the time it's because they're in denial, they don't know what's really going on, or they're just as involved in it. It's never easy to see someone's raw grief like that."

"I took two lives," Luke went on. "But I struggle with caring about Johnny. He was...he was such a bastard..."

"He had a mean streak, yes," Lance agreed.

"You knew him, right?"

"We met briefly. I wasn't a fan of him, but your mother was fascinated by him."

"How could she love someone like him? I never understood it," Luke said, rubbing a hand over his face slowly.

"The mysteries of love," Lance said with a small smile.

"You said you trained her?"

"Finished her training. She was an orphan bouncing around foster homes before landing in the home of someone from the agency. That was one of their recruiting techniques, you know. They had a front of being a foster parent and screened the ones who could become valuable assets to the agency or not. Your mother was a prime candidate. Very angry...full of hate."

"They didn't get caught?"

"If they chose the right kid to train, no one said anything," Lance said.

"If they chose the wrong kid?"

"They never did," Lance answered with a chuckle.

"Mum didn't seem like a hateful person," Luke said next.

"She channeled it into the job," Lance replied.

"Did you know my father? Brendan?"

"No. She kept her life private mostly. She left me, and last I heard, she was off with Johnny."

"Mum said you were killed because you asked too many questions about targets," Luke said, looking at him fully now. "Clearly you're in hiding here. What made you ask questions? Why would they kill someone for asking questions?" Lance rolled his tongue across his front teeth behind his lips, thinking.

"Questions can lead to truths, and the agency doesn't like sharing the truth," Lance answered carefully. "I was asked to kill a kid, and that went against every fibre in my body. I didn't ask questions. I flat out said no, and then I had to go into hiding." The memory was sharp as always. Lance was many things, but he wasn't a child killer. Yes, he'd failed to look after Simon, and he would have given consequences for his actions, but he never would have killed the boy.

"Did someone else kill the kid anyway?" Luke asked quietly.

"No," Lance answered. "I hid the kid and the mother very well."

"Why did they want them dead?"

"They claimed the kid would grow up just like their father and that we couldn't let that happen. I knew better, though. I knew it was just punishment for the father, that the child was being used in this scenario. So I refused, and I took that kid and mother and hid them. I can only hope they're still safe today, but I don't know."

"How many other targets did they give you that were wrong?"

"I don't know. I did my best to research whoever I was given. I never had a reason to doubt any of the other ones, but I'll never know." He watched Luke ponder on this for a moment. "What was your target doing?"

"He was a human trafficker," Luke answered. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"Then you know he was a viable target."

"Yes..."

"But it didn't make it any easier," Lance finished for him. "I get it."

"Will it pass?"

"Her screams will eventually fade," Lance said, knowing that's what Luke was asking. "It's still fresh right now. This is why I prefer it that you're at least 20 before going out on jobs. It's one thing to start training at 17; it's another to take a life when you're still a kid."

"This is the only life I've ever known," Luke told him. "I don't know how to be anything else." He looked at Lance, who felt his heart twist for this boy in front of him.

"Give it time," he said finally. "If you find that you want to do something else by the time you're 20, then go do that. I won't stop you. I'll hold up my end of the deal with your mother and finish your training, but I won't force you to do the job if you don't want to."

"Maybe I'll actually join the military instead," Luke reasoned.

"Your call, son."

"Thanks for listening," Luke said, giving him a small smile now.

"Anytime. I'm not perfect, and I've made mistakes, but I'm doing my best to make up for it now. That's why Rita knows nothing about this kind of life. I don't want that for her."

"She's definitely got a big heart."

"Considering the bullshit she's endured, I love that she still has that big heart. I worried a lot that she'd turn cold and hard and closed off, but I must be doing something right cos that hasn't happened yet," Lance said with a slight chuckle. He patted the bed once before standing up. "You need to talk at all, you let me know."

"I will."

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

Lance collected his gun from where he'd stashed it and went back to his room. He groaned slightly as he sank back down and tried to get comfortable in bed again after sticking his gun back where it belonged. He thought about Luke's experiences and felt bad. He hoped the boy would figure out what he wanted to do. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake finishing his training, but he didn't want Jess to act on her promise of exposing him.

He knew she would too.

July 1993

Montana, U.S.

Summer came, and with it were days of freedom. Rita knew eventually she would get a job, so she enjoyed the free time while she had it. She did chores around the house and stayed out of Luke's way when her father was around. When he wasn't around, she was by his side. She'd laughed at teaching him how to collect eggs and how he'd run when the chickens chased him the first time. She also laughed whenever Hank would sneak up behind him to clip the back of his head with his snout. Now, she was riding Willow and noticed Luke outside.

"You wanna ride her?" Rita asked as she came up to him slowly on Willow's back.

"Oh, no," he said.

"Come on," she insisted. "Don't be a wimp."

"I am not a wimp..."

"Then ride her."

He sighed in frustration but stopped arguing. Rita smiled. He was easy to wear down for the most part. She enjoyed having him as a friend. She could freely speak her mind, and he'd give it right back to her if needed.

She hopped down and handed him the reins.

"It's easy," she said. She wanted to share this happiness with him. Riding Willow had helped her and still helped her to this day, and she wanted Luke to find a release for his pain like she had. They didn't talk about each other's pain yet, and Rita didn't know if they ever would, but she knew that just knowing it was there helped them to feel not so alone.

"Uh huh," he said skeptically.

"Just go slow," Rita told him as he climbed up into the saddle carefully. "She's patient."

"Holy crap," he muttered as Willow started to walk. His knuckles were white holding the reins. Rita stopped herself from giggling. She shouldn't laugh at people's fear, but his facial expression was priceless.

"See? Easy," she said instead, walking alongside them. "Good girl, Willow." The horse snorted and tossed her head, causing Luke to make some sounds in his throat from the momentum.

"She won't throw you off," Rita promised.

"If you say so."

They walked around for a bit until Rita looked up at him, shading her eyes with her hand.

"You wanna try a trot?"

"Hell no," Luke answered. "I'm good. We can stop anytime now." Rita got Willow to stop, and he jumped off, landing on his feet like a cat.

"Was that so bad?" she asked.

"No."

Rita swung herself back up into the saddle and gathered the reins in her hands. Willow stood at the ready.

"Next time then," she said, smiling at Luke. He gave a shake of the head back, and she dug her heels into Willow's sides. As the wind pulled her hair and they galloped across the field, she couldn't help but unleash her feelings of joy.

"Wooooooohoooooooooo!" she screamed. She didn't look back to see Luke watching and smiling.

Days Later

Luke stood with Lance in front of three crosses. One was for Carol, one for Rosie, and the other was apparently for an old family dog, but it would look like three family members since there were no names attached to them.

"If anyone shady looking comes here," Lance started, "and they ask about my family, you point them here. You tell them all my family died."

"Okay, but...wouldn't they see Rita's room and know you're lying?" Luke asked, confused.

"Ideally, they won't go inside the house. But even if they do, this is only supposed to give me enough time to get Rita away while they waste time looking at it," Lance answered, "or to give me an advantage to take them out while they look at it. I know it won't stick. That's not the idea. The idea is distraction. You can use distraction in all different ways; it doesn't always have to be flashy. Subtle works just as good. Come. I'll show you what to do if the time comes." Luke wasn't sure how an idea like that would have come to fruition, but if it worked...

Lance led him to the office at the back of the house and slid the rug back. He showed Luke where to find the seams of the loose board that was three smaller boards nailed together and pulled it up, revealing a man sized hole. Luke knew he was doing this now while Rita was away at camp so she wouldn't walk in on them.

"It comes out the back and goes to the woods," Lance explained. "There's a dirt bike under a tarp hidden there that I keep maintained, and you take that to the plane."

"Plane?"

"Yes, I have a private plane," Lance answered. He replaced the board and the rug and led Luke to his truck. They drove almost an hour to where the plane was kept. It was a very small airstrip with one building on it.

"You own this?" Luke asked, impressed.

"Yes, I do. The property is under a fake name, of course," Lance added. He went into the plane, and Luke joined him.

"Are you gonna teach me to fly?" Luke asked, feeling a bit excited.

"The more you know the better," Lance answered. "After all, I promised to train you, didn't I?"

...

Lance couldn't contain his chuckle as Luke whooped with the thrill of flying. The kid was a fast learner, and Lance was sitting in the co-pilot seat making sure he did everything properly. He only had to suggest a few different things here and there.

On their way back to the strip, Luke looked like he was driving a car. That's how comfortable he appeared.

"You're a natural," Lance noted.

"When did you learn to fly?"

"Oh, my trainer was a pilot," Lance answered. "He took me up with him a lot."

"That's awesome."

Lance thought about it now. He'd been a prime target for the agency. His father had left. His mother was an addict. He had no other family. He had anger and abandonment issues. Why wouldn't they have picked him up?

Luke let Lance land them, and he knew they'd be practising this more later. He found himself feeling bonded with Luke for some reason, and he knew that was bad. He wasn't supposed to feel attachment to the people he trained, but he couldn't help it with Luke. Then he felt guilty about Simon all over again. If he'd had a better relationship with him, maybe they could have been alright. Simon hadn't wanted a relationship with him, though. He'd made that very clear constantly. Lance hadn't told Luke much about Simon when he asked, just said that they didn't talk about him. He didn't see the point in it.

They found Kenny at the farm when they got back.

"I hate to be a bother," Kenny said upon them approaching. "I just need a hand for a couple of hours. One of my cows broke through the fence."

"What can I do?" Luke asked, volunteering.

"Fix the fence while I find the damn cow," Kenny answered.

"Sure."

Lance watched them leave together, and Luke talked easily with Kenny it seemed. If the boy hadn't been trained to be a killer from day one, Lance was pretty sure that Luke could have made a good rancher.

It was too bad that life set paths in motion that were hard, if not impossible, to get off.

A Week Later

Rita came home from camp (which had been a surprise to learn she was going to but didn't argue about going) to find Luke and her father smiling and laughing in the garage. Her father was teaching Luke something about the engine under the hood of the car he had in there, and Luke was doing as instructed. She smiled, liking that they were getting along. She always had a feeling her father would have liked to have a son around. She felt like Luke was filling that void a little bit. If Simon had been different, he could have, but Simon was Simon, and Rita knew he hated her father long before he'd left. She remembered him always saying he wasn't Lance's son and that Rita wasn't his sister. He'd never wanted to be in their family.

Their neighbor, Lucy, had dropped Rita off and honked her horn as she backed out of the driveway with Keira waving hard and fast from the back window. Lance looked up and waved back at her. His face brightened upon seeing Rita.

"Hey, you!" he called, grabbing a rag to wipe his greasy hands and coming out to greet her. "How was your week away?"

"It was alright."

"Make any friends?" he asked. Rita's eyes flicked over to Luke and back, but Luke wasn't paying attention to her. He did a very good job at ignoring her when her father was around.

"I think so," she answered.

"Yea?"

"Her name is Bridget, and she just moved here recently. She goes to my school in the fall."

"That's cool."

"She's nice," Rita agreed.

"Well, feel free to invite her over anytime," Lance offered, and Rita smiled again. She could see how happy her father was, knowing she had a new friend.

"I will," she agreed. She had her bag slung across her back, and she kept looking at Luke. He still wasn't looking at her.

"I'll get cleaned up and start supper," Lance promised.

"Hello, Luke," Rita said pointedly. "Or am I not supposed to talk to the help?"

"Rita," Lance admonished.

"What? Can't you tell he's terrified to acknowledge me when you're around?" Rita challenged. She was tired of the facade. She wanted to be open about being friends with him. Luke shot her a look now. It was a warning look.

"Is that true?" Lance asked Luke, who gave him a nervous look back in return.

"No, sir."

"See? He's not," Lance scoffed at Rita. "Sometimes I think you read too much. You get some strange ideas, kid."

"Then let's try this again," Rita said. "Hi, Luke."

"Hey," he said back, looking at her. "How was your trip?"

"Good, thanks. How were things here?"

"Just fine."

"Good."

"Okay," Lance said, looking back and forth between them with a raised brow. "Now that we've cleared that up, can you go unpack, Rita?"

"Yep." She turned to walk towards the house, a spring in her step.

...

Luke waited for it when Rita was finally out of earshot. Lance leaned his elbows on the edge of the front of the car next to him and looked at him.

"You don't have to act like she doesn't exist," he commented.

"I just didn't want you to think I had any ideas and then kick me out," Luke said truthfully. "Not that I would. She's 13."

"That's right. You can be decent, just leave it at that."

"I can do that."

"Good. Go clean up," Lance instructed, and Luke obeyed. He was standing in the mud room over the wash basin when Rita appeared next to him.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He said to be decent."

"You're always decent."

Luke just smiled. Yes, she was 13, but it didn't stop him from being fond of her. She had a way of growing on him that he had never expected would happen. He cared about her wellbeing, and that scared him a little.

"Tell me about this new friend," he said, scrubbing the brush under his nails to get all the grease out. "Am I getting replaced?"

"Never," Rita answered immediately. "It's just nice to have a girl for a friend too."

"For all that gossiping you do, right?" he asked.

"I don't gossip!"

"I'm teasing," Luke said, flicking water at her. She exclaimed and shoved him back. He reached for the towel to dry his hands off when he saw Lance pass by the doorway. He bowed his head and stepped around Rita, setting the towel on the laundry machine as he went. She followed him to the kitchen where Lance was starting to cook.

Luke sat and watched as father and daughter interacted with each other while making supper together. His assistance had been denied. He enjoyed listening to their banter. Lance had a soft side to him it seemed. Luke had seen it briefly at times when Lance talked to him, but it was very evident when he interacted with Rita.

"If you don't like Sloppy Joes," Rita said to him as she handed him a plate a bit later, "then I don't think we can be friends anymore."

"I've never had one," he admitted. She gaped at him.

"What?!"

"Eat up then," Lance said, putting one on his plate and Rita's. She told him all about how good it was as they went back to the table. Luke realized how much he'd actually missed her constant chatter in the time she'd been away. It was comforting.

And Sloppy Joes were damn good.

...

Rita looked up from her book when her father appeared in her bedroom doorway. She knew he was coming to tell her lights out.

"I know, I know," she said, putting her bookmark in her book.

"Did you even do anything at camp besides read?" he asked, teasing her. "Your nose is always in a book."

"It is not," she argued.

"Most of the time."

"Half of the time," she countered. He chuckled, just nodding in agreement. Then he grew serious.

"So, uh, Luke," he said, surprising her. "You think of him as a friend?" She swallowed, feeling nervous suddenly. Was he going to be angry about it?

"I, um..." she trailed off.

"You mentioned it at supper," he commented. "That you were friends."

With the comment about him not liking Sloppy Joes. She remembered. She licked her lips anxiously.

"I do think of him as a friend," she said carefully. Her father studied her for a moment, and she wondered if she'd given the wrong answer when he nodded slowly.

"Keep it that way," he instructed. She was glad her room was semi-dark to conceal her blush. Did he know she had a small crush on Luke? She thought she'd hid it well.

"I'm 13, Dad," she reminded him.

"I know, but soon you won't be, and I just want you to promise me that you'll stay away from Luke in that regard when the time comes."

"What if I get older and like him that way?" she dared to ask.

"I'm asking you to not do that," Lance said seriously. "I need you to not do that."

"Why?"

"Rita, please."

She felt confused, but she didn't want to anger him either, so she just nodded.

"Okay. I promise."

"Thank you. Now, lights out."

She put her book on her nightstand and switched her lamp off. She lay there thinking about what her father had asked of her. She felt pretty certain that it was going to be the one promise she wasn't going to be able to keep for him.

1994

Montana, U.S.

Luke was splitting wood when Rita came running towards him, the axe making a satisfying sound when it landed into the piece he was currently chopping up.

"Luke!"

"Yea?" He turned to see her approaching. She simply reached to grab his hand and pulled him with her. He dropped the axe before being dragged behind her. "Where are we going?"

Lance was working late. He'd instructed Luke to ensure Rita ate something since she could get distracted by things and forget. He'd practically force fed her dinner as she went on about this and that. It seemed she was distracted by something else now.

"Rita," he said as they neared the woods. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shhh," she ordered, letting go of him and cupping her hands around her mouth. She made a sound that startled him and made him almost want to laugh. He was about to open his mouth to tease her about it when a bird answered back. An owl, to be precise.

"Look!" she exclaimed, whacking him in the upper chest with her right hand. "Over there!"

"Ow..." He said it more as a reflex than actually being hurt, but her ring did dig into his neck a little on the second whack.

"Look," she said again, more forcefully. He turned his head to see an owl sitting on the branch watching them.

"Well I'll be," he said.

"It's a Barred Owl. I have been practising for weeks," she breathed. "I can't believe it worked!"

"I can't either," he teased.

"Luke," she said as she tilted her head back slightly, exasperated.

"I'm just saying that it needs work," he commented. "Cos the sound you made versus what the actual owl made was very different. It would confuse the shit out of me, too, to the point I'd have to come investigate."

"You're hideous," she told him.

"I'm just being honest."

"It's 'Who Cooks for You,'" she said. "The sound they make."

"Well, I heard part rooster, part wailing broad."

"Shut up!"

He laughed as she hit him again. The owl surveyed them carefully, unmoving. He had to admit it was really cool. He'd never seen one before.

"Just admit that you're really impressed right now," Rita said, reading his mind.

"I'm impressed that you tricked an owl into thinking you're an owl."

"You're so infuriating," Rita huffed, pushing her hair back.

"I try."

She hugged herself, and he felt a bit bad for making fun of her. He reached to rest his hand on her shoulder.

"Good job," he said, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks for sharing with me."

"Alright," she said. "You get a pass for that one."

"Thanks," he said with a grin.

"I'm teaching Keira. She'll be so excited to know it worked."

"Oh definitely." Luke smiled as he recalled Keira bringing him a loaf of bread she'd learned to make alongside Lucy. New things excited her to no end. He was slightly envious of her in that regard. He'd never really gotten to enjoy the simple things in life let alone get excited about them.

"Excuse me, I have to go back to making sure we are warm for the winter," he said now.

"You've got, like, six months..."

"Never too early to start."

"Alright."

He loped back to the woodpile and picked up his axe. Lance kept him busy after school and on weekends. So did Kenny. They'd survived the winter, which Luke had to get used to seeing so much snow. Rita had made sure to shove him into snow banks or shove snow down the back of his shirt every chance she got, which had earned her getting thrown into a snow bank on occasion in return. They'd survived some nights without hydro. They'd had to help Kenny when his pumps froze and he had to haul water for his cows. Luke had to admit that he didn't like the cold.

It was spring now, and he was looking forward to the warmer weather. Rita was getting ready for high school in the fall. Luke wondered what it'd be like to be in the same school as her.

His first year of school here had been interesting. He was quick to get picked on for being kept back a grade. He had two bullies that took shots at him every chance they got, but Luke held his own and soon gained a reputation of one to not be messed with. He dreaded finishing and eventually going off on his own, but he knew he couldn't stay here forever. He got an ache inside at the thought of leaving Rita behind, though. Her nature and personality was something that kept him going. He knew she probably didn't know how much she meant to him, and he wasn't going to tell her.

She went to the house now, and he watched her go. She was probably going to call Bridget. Luke wasn't overly fond of that girl, but she was Rita's friend, and he tolerated her. Bridget liked to touch him too often and batted her eyes at him. It got on his nerves. She wasn't shy about her crush on him, not like Rita was.

He couldn't help but smile at this. Rita had very subtle cues that she liked him, which included certain questions she'd ask him or suddenly wrestling with him out of nowhere or giving him a punch or a shove. If she was a little older and he hadn't made her father a promise, he'd have responded by now.

But...he couldn't. It was something he could never have, and as much as that hurt to realize, it was something he had to accept.

...

That summer, Rita got a job at the library. It was perfect because she loved books, and being surrounded by them a few times a week was like seventh heaven. Luke would tease her about smelling like old paperbacks, and she would flush inside at knowing he paid attention to what she smelled like.

She noticed that her father spent a lot of time with Luke, and it seemed he was teaching him things, but what those things were, Rita had no idea. When she asked, she got vague answers. One night, she crept out to the barn where her father had hung the new punching bag he'd gotten for Luke. She was burning with curiosity, so she waited for a night where her father was working late at the shop to snoop. She found Luke in there punching the bag, so she hid herself away to observe. She watched Luke work the bag over and over, his muscles rippling with each strike. She was admiring his speed and agility, along with his jaw line and bare chest. She didn't know if he sensed her there. She'd been careful to sneak in. She knew she'd feel embarrassed if he caught her there, but she didn't know why. The barn was a public space. If he didn't want anyone watching, he should have found a more private place to work out.

When he finished, he gulped water before splashing some on his head and face. He gave his head a shake before setting the glass down. Rita watched him unwrap his hands before he grabbed his towel and dried himself off, finishing by rubbing the back of his head vigorously. He threw on his t-shirt before walking out of the barn. Rita waited a while before coming out of her hiding place and heading for the punching bag. She stood in front of it, eyeing it up. It couldn't be that hard. She got into the stance she'd seen Luke do and put up her fists. She imagined Simon's face before giving the bag a swift punch.

"Ahhh!" she hissed, waving her hand around in pain. "Ow, ow, ow!" It was a lot heavier than she'd anticipated. Luke had made it look like it was almost as light as air. She shook it off, determined not to give up. She hit a bit gentler next time, moving her fists in succession: one, two. She circled the bag, daring to hit it harder each time. Her knuckles were hurting by the time she was finished, and she noticed they looked beat up. She frowned. Was that why Luke wrapped his hands?

"Not bad," his voice said, making her shriek and jump a mile high in fright. She clutched at her chest, her knuckles throbbing. He stepped out of the shadows and approached her, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans.

"Why are you spying on me?" she demanded, getting her wits back about her.

"I think the real question is why are you spying on me?" he countered, tilting his head and giving her an amused expression.

"How did you...?" she started, trailing off.

"I always know when I'm being watched," he said with a shrug. "So, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly, feeling her face grow hot with embarrassment.

"There must be a reason why it looked like you were punching the crap out of someone you know," he reasoned.

"No reason," she insisted. Both her hands were throbbing now, and she wanted to go put ice on them to make it stop.

"Well, if you're gonna do it, then you gotta do it right," he said, going over to her now after grabbing the wraps. She watched him unravel one and gesture for her to hold out her hand. She held it out, feeling a tiny bit of electricity when his hand touched hers. He wrapped her hand securely and then did the other one. She flexed when he was done, noticing the tightness.

"It's gonna hurt cos they're already banged up," he explained. "But that will prevent it from happening again in the future."

"Okay."

"Show me your stance again," he instructed, and at first she thought about saying no. She was feeling very self-conscious in front of him suddenly, but she forced herself to do it. She stiffened in surprise as he rested his hands on her hips and nudged her feet with his, putting her into a better position. He moved her arms up a bit too.

"Try it now," he said after, stepping away from her. She obeyed, and her knuckles hurt but not as badly.

"Oh," she said, seeing how easier it was.

"Better?"

"Much."

"Alright. Don't overdo it," he said. "Let those heal up a bit before you try again."

"Okay. Can you...can you show me?"

"Show you what?"

"How to keep doing this?" She gestured to the bag. He looked uncertain at first.

"I can," he started, hesitating.

"It's just whacking a bag, Luke," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's not like I'm gonna get into a fight with someone."

"Alright then."

Rita wanted to say something else, anything, but her tongue was tied. He was standing there, and she wondered what he was thinking.

"What are you and my father doing when you spend so much time together?" she asked, deciding to be bold.

"My goal is to join the military, so he's helping me train."

"Oh." She recalled her father mentioning he had been in the military when he was younger before coming to the States. It surprised her to learn that Luke wanted to join up.

"What?" he asked, chuckling. "Did you see me as a lawyer or something?"

"No," she said defensively. "I just didn't imagine you in the military, but it makes sense."

"It does, huh," he said.

"Well...yea," she said with a nod. "It suits you."

"I'm glad I got your approval," he teased. She blushed and hid her face quickly to keep him from seeing it. She cleared her throat and looked back at him once she'd calmed down.

"Well, train hard," she said. "I'd hate to see you die over there or wherever you'd get sent."

"I'll be just fine," he replied. She unwrapped her hands slowly and set the wraps back on the shelf.

"Thanks for the lesson," she said. He said nothing as she walked past him and went towards the house. She suddenly imagined him wounded and lying in a field somewhere surrounded by war, and it made her tear up. She went to her room and tried to pull herself together. She heard him come in after a moment and bang about downstairs. She left him alone.

...

Luke could tell Rita was a bit upset by the idea of him being a soldier. He knew she'd probably be even more upset if she learned the truth. He didn't know if she'd understand or even want to.

He heard Rita pace in her room after a while, and he refrained from going to see if she was alright. He had to remember what his job and focus was. He wasn't to make connections and friendships, but he had. He knew they could be used against him later, so he couldn't allow for leverages to be discovered by the wrong people. As impossible as it was, he knew he had to harden his resolve to not be so close to Rita moving forward.

It would make it hurt less when he lost her.