I want to apologize for the hiatus on this and another story. The chapters are done and still awaited editing, but hopefully over the next few days I will have everything posted and completed!

Thank you to everyone who liked, followed, and favorited. I hope you can still enjoy! :)

It was about a month later when she was finally back in the US. There had been a lot of fallout from the explosion, and it was safe to say that the CIA wasn't entirely thrilled with Amelia's chosen course of action. She didn't care much for their feelings, though. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew it had nothing to do with them and working there anymore.

Over and over again she found herself casting the blame on Lee for being one of the reasons why she agreed to that original mission in the first place. She tried to tell herself that it was nobody's fault things had gone badly, that nobody had all the information and so she went in pretty much blind. But still, in those dark moments when she needed to be angry at someone, she was angry at Lee.

Church met her when she got off the unmarked plane, clad in suit and tie and face set in a hard, uncertain grimace. Her knuckles had scarred and calloused over, and for the most part, there was hardly any physical reminder on her body of the time she spent undercover. She tossed her pack over her shoulder, the arrows peeking out of the zipper, and squeezed her fingers tight around her bow.

"Ahh, welcome back to terra firma," Church said as Amelia approached. It had been a long flight. She wasn't sure exactly where she had been located for the safety of the mission, but it was a long ways away. She stopped in front of him and looked up, tired and irritated.

"What do you want?" She asked.

He raised an eyebrow and looked her over. "A couple months on your own and you turn into a hardened merc, huh?"

She sucked in her cheeks until eventually they popped. "Eight months is hardly a couple," she said.

He shrugged. "Touché," he said, "your friends have been busy without you."

She had asked about the expendables when they had first brought her back from the compound, but nobody there had any answers- or any answers that they were willing to share, at least.

"Good for them," she said. She resisted the urge to ask for more information. "So why are you here?"

"I have an offer," he said. "Walk with me."

He turned and made to leave and she stood there for a second and let out a long, deflated sigh. Then she followed.

"Your little friends have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble with me and my associates," he started. "See, our business with Barney Ross began with you. We were interested in acquiring a subtle asset, and he was interested in you becoming more proficient in the language he speaks most fluently."

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "So what? You need me to do another job?"

"Call it a favor for your buddies," he said. "They're in a bit of a pickle. See, the CIA has them in their pocket now, which as I'm sure you know, none of them are happy about. We paid them for a job they couldn't see to completion."

"That doesn't sound like them," she said, suspicious.

"It was for noble reasons," Church quickly added. "Anyway, we need someone to go and tidy up a bit of a political mess. Quick and easy, and then you can go off doing whatever it is you want to do."

"I just spent eight months in the closest thing to hell I can imagine there is. Now you want me to, what, take some guy out so you can avoid some bad press?"

Church bobbled his head a bit. "We appreciate the work you did. The information you gathered for us really put us ahead of the game, and those traffickers will have to go far underground to avoid getting caught for now. But that's exactly why we need you," he continued, pausing before a dark SUV with tinted windows. "That little escape you orchestrated. It was skillful."

"It seems to be my calling," she sighed, bitter. "Not the first time I had to do it."

"You're good with a bow. It's not something you'd expect in most war-torn areas. They're used to gunfire and tanks. A girl with a bow can do even more damage, though."

"Can you get to the point?" She said finally, shaking her head. "I wanna go back to my apartment and get so shit-faced I won't be able to remember my own name. You're getting in the way of that, a bit."

"By yourself? That's a bit lonely," he said.

"I never said that," she hissed, defensive. He was right though. She didn't have anyone she desperately wanted the company of. "What do you want me to do? Lay it out."

"Your friends killed a rogue agent," Church explained. "The mission was in Vilena. They caused quite the stir. In the mix up, one General Garza was also killed. He was the figurehead for our dearly departed ex-agent, but nevertheless, his death has caused quite the uproar in terms of who will come into power. None of this is looking good for our agency. We need the fighting to come to an end. Of the factions vying for power, one of them is violent and intends to continue the business our agent began. That being said, it would be a real shame if your friends had to face the repercussions of what happened there because this dictator-in-waiting let the news of the entire fiasco slip."

"Are you blackmailing me?" She asked.

"No, just explaining the potential consequences of refusal."

"So you want me to kill this blossoming warlord," she said, turning her attention to the sky.

"It needs to be an accident," Church continued. "Well, it has to look like one, anyway. The world is watching, Amelia. If the right person lands in a position of power, all of this can go away. It's for the best, for everyone."

She sighed. She figured she didn't have much of a choice. The blood and explosion from the compound was still fresh in her mind, especially after having to recount the events close to a thousand times since they extracted her. For the sake of documentation, they had said. She knew damn well those documents would be classified, so what was the point?

"If they find an arrow in his head, it clearly won't be considered an accident," she offered.

"You'd be surprised how much people are willing to overlook when it involves someone they don't like," Church said. "A man on the inside tells me that most people, even the ones following the man, are not enthralled with his methods. So, say, one day, he's out for a drive in the mountains. Maybe he's got a leak in his gas tank, realizes he's losing fuel, gets out to check it, all while a cigar is hanging from his mouth. Push comes to shove, and with the help of an arrow from a safe distance away, he goes up in flames. Fire is cleansing, you know."

"Sounds sketchy," she said after a beat. "Can't you just rig an election or something?"

"Not when the man in question is against elections, and if they had one, he'd probably rig it himself, anyway," he explained. She sighed and rolled her neck. She hated politics.

"When do I leave?"

"As soon as you're ready. Sooner rather than later, if you don't mind. Peoples lives depend on this."

"Yeah, yeah," she groaned. "Everybody's life depends on someone dying. That's all we're good for anyway, right? Dying. Everyones gotta do it. Might as well make it happen early for the people we don't like."

Church raised an eyebrow. "You've gone a bit twisty on us, haven't you?"

"I just spent eight months pretending to work for the literal scum of the earth. They did the worst shit I've ever seen, so, yeah, I've become 'a bit twisty.'"

"Eh, you're young," Church said.

She clenched her jaw and shook her head. She opened the back door of the SUV and tossed her stuff haphazardly in.

"In and out," Church said. "Then I'll personally deliver you to your door and that will be that."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "Sure."

Being back in the familiar city set her heart on edge. She found herself always tense now, and every sound would make her jump. The place she had once run to in order to get away from life had become just another place. She thought she'd be a bit more relieved being in familiar territory, but it felt just as foreign now as it did the first day she arrived. She looked down at her hands and remembered the blood smeared all over them, the explosion ringing fresh in her ears.

A part of her was excited to go back to the action. A part of her- and she weren't sure how big this part was- craved that feeling of heart-racing adrenaline and the smell of blood pooling around her. It was a part of her that she had never known before. Killing, fighting- all of that had just been what she learned to do, and it was a job, as much as learning her times tables and sentence structure had been when she was younger. But now, instead of just being a student that could say 2+2=4, she was a mathematician that knew the little secrets of the universe and could write them in shorthand and she loved it. It made her wary, that desire, that blood thirst. She didn't quite fear herself, not yet, but she certainly didn't recognize herself either.

—-

She found her perch and situated herself, waiting for Barney and Lee to give their respective go-ahead's through the coms. She had everything ready- the arrow, the bomb, the detonator. Just like old times.

She had found herself in this exact situation too many times before. Not that she cared that much, but it wasn't exactly what she had in mind for field work all those years ago. Nevertheless, she let herself get comfortable and watched the mob wander in and out of their little hideout.

"Dusty, you lined up?" Barney asked. His voice in her ear startled her a little. She was settling into the scene, even forgetting about the cold air closing in on her while she watched the people ahead.

"Got a crystal clear shot," she answered. "Almost ready?"

"Me, Gunner, and Toll are ready. Once Lee gives his signal, let her fly."

She waited and listened for Lee. She wondered what he thought about when he had time alone to think. Did he think about past jobs, overthink conversations, or was he lucky enough to just be able to let his mind run blank? She couldn't do that, not anymore. When she was younger she could entertain herself within her own mind for hours, even if that meant turning the world off and sinking into nothingness. She'd seen and experienced too much for that now.

"Me and Caesar are good," Lee finally said. "Don't miss."

She scoffed, lining up the shot with the pickup they had been carrying supplies to and from. "I would never," she said, feeling for the wind, the weight of the arrow, the pull of the string.

She let it go and it sailed into the closed gas tank. She tugged out the detonator and, as the crowd began to realize what was happening, she hit the button with her thumb and watched the fire spread up into the sky with a bang.

Finally, she thought, sitting back. Something warm.

"Making my way south. Don't keep me waiting, boss."

She gathered her things and stood, watching the flames erupt for another moment before she made to turn. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something familiar: a face, distant, but still profoundly recognizable. She'd spent a lot of time watching that face from afar, and frankly, not enough time beating it to a pulp. She felt a heavy, cold weight settle in her chest and she was stuck, boots in the snow. She couldn't breathe. It had been a second, but that was all it really took, wasn't it? A second to recognize. A second to live. A second to die. A dreadfully long, painful second. He hurried into the building and she saw her panicked breaths form and disappear in front of her lips.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was walking in the wrong direction. Barney's words replayed in her head: go around the outside, not the inside.

She never claimed to be good at following orders. Maybe she had gotten better at it, but at heart, she was a free-thinker. And in that second, which was all it ever took, she decided Barney could shove his orders somewhere the sun didn't shine. She had unfinished business to tend to.

—-

Barney and Lee and the guys all met up exactly as planned and found the businessmen tied up and scared.

Lee pulled out a knife and cut all of the ropes, shoving them towards Barney with a look that said you better be quiet.

"Let's move," Barney said, looking everyone over. "You boys better stay quiet and keep up."

They hurried out the way they came, shoving the men along. The only sounds were distant voices yelling in a foreign language and their boots tapping along the ground. They got out fast, taking down only a few guys with the silencers on their guns so as not to draw any attention their way. They made it swiftly to the rendezvous, the men they had saved brushing off their stained suits, wiping blood off of their noses with the backs of their hands.

"Shit, thank you," one of them said, looking over the group.

Barney grunted, looking down at his watch and up at the area around him, and then back down at his watch.

"Something's not right," he said, looking over all of the men. Almost as if on cue, the shooting started. The men they saved jumped back, confused, and Barney shared a look with Lee.

"Toll, Caesar, get these idiots to the plane," Barney barked, pulling out his guns and nodding at Lee and Gunnar.

"Dusty," Lee said into the comms, but all he got back was garble. Barney clenched his jaw and looked off towards the explosion, watching the firefight as they hurried back into the compound in the freezing cold.