Light & Dark by Audiomachine
You Know Why I'm Here by Rupert Parkes
Desperation by Daughtry
Human Heart by Coldplay ft. We are KING & Jacob Collier
Surveillance by Johann Johannsson
Darkness by Ryan Amon
The Inside Man by Chris Benstead
I Am the Weapon by Three Days Grace
Forgetting You by Cam
I Can't Be With You by The Cranberries
1982
Montana, U.S.
Carol looked at her seven year old son and felt a tiny bit of hatred in the bottom of her stomach. It took her off guard and scared her, but it was there.
"I hate you," Simon said to her, his fists clenched.
"No, you don't," Carol said wearily. It was the same fight on a different day. He wanted his way, and she wasn't letting him have it. Two year old Rita was watching from the floor off to the left.
"I don't want to clean up!"
"But you have to," Carol said. "That's part of being a member of a household. You have to help out."
"No!"
He struck her hard twice. Carol took in some breaths and counted to ten. She'd never hit him back because she didn't want to be a violent person. She didn't want to be like Greg. She suddenly thought about her father and realized that she saw some of his traits in Simon on top of Greg's. It scared her.
Then she thought about Rosie. After hearing their father had died, Carol hadn't wanted to stay in England. She'd followed Rosie here, believing she'd get a chance to have a life free of fear. She knew what her father had done for a living. She knew that her siblings did it as well. Rosie had sworn her to secrecy about it, that she hadn't wanted Lance to know, and Carol had kept her promise. She'd wanted her sister to be happy too. Unfortunately for Carol, she'd found a man just like her father and brother, although Colter had never physically hurt her. He'd always just enjoyed mentally torturing her with empty threats every so often...usually when their father was around. Carol wasn't sure if he'd done it for their father's benefit or not. She sometimes found a cookie or a flower in her room randomly afterwards; she guessed it was his way of apologizing. That stopped when he got older, though. Carol felt like her brother had slid down a dark path to appease Zeke and was stuck there.
Simon was still shouting and carrying on, so Carol simply picked up Rita and walked away. Rosie's daughter was a sweetheart, and Carol loved her to pieces. She wasn't difficult. She didn't scream or yell. She was an angel.
Carol didn't realize that this would make Simon jealous. She had no idea that it would make Simon hate Rita so much.
She had no idea the person her son was turning into.
...
Lance came home and found a weary Carol sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hand. He set down his lunch box and gave her a sympathetic look. She was happy for the most part since Greg was gone, but he knew she had some struggles with Simon at times with his behavior. She wouldn't go into detail with him, but he knew she was hurting from it at times. It looked like this was the case tonight.
"Long day?" he asked.
"Yea," she answered. He felt something inside when he looked at her. It wasn't the same kind of love he'd had for Rosie, but it was something. She'd been there almost two years now, and he had noticed moments between them in the last while that made him think she was thinking the same thing too.
"How can I help?" he asked, sitting down next to her. She gave a weak smile.
"You can't really help," she answered. "It'll be fine. I'll be fine."
"You don't look fine."
"Alright, you got me," she said after a moment. "I miss my sister."
Lance felt the blow to his chest, and he took a moment to breathe. Rosie was around him everywhere in this house, and he knew that if he missed her this much, then Carol did too.
"Me too," he admitted.
"We're just two pieces of a broken heart aren't we?" she asked.
"Seems that way."
He sat there and wondered if he should voice what he was thinking. In the end, she reached to pat his hand and got to her feet.
"Tomorrow's a new day," she said, giving him a small smile.
"Carol," he started, and she paused.
"Yes?"
"Would you like to have dinner with me this weekend?" he asked, feeling stupid. They ate dinner together all the time. He hoped she knew what he was implying.
"Are you buying?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then I'm in," she answered. "I'll get Lucy to watch the kids."
"Sounds great."
There was a different energy in the air now, and Lance wondered if he was crazy for doing this. Would Rosie approve? He didn't know. He couldn't ask her. He liked to think that she'd view it was them helping each other out.
"Good night," he said softly.
"Good night, Lancelot," she said back. He chuckled lightly. She liked to use his full name, even though he knew it wasn't his real name. It was his grandfather's name, and he was Lance's favorite person up until the day he died. It made him feel closer to him, which was comforting. He wondered if there would be a day where the truth would come out. Would she stay if she knew he was a former assassin?
He really didn't want to find out.
Bulgaria
Rosie wasn't entirely sure how she got back to the safe house. Her target had fought back hard, and she'd almost lost. She had a stab wound in her side that was gushing blood something awful. Her mind couldn't stop flashing back to the target's initial fear of seeing her, but she knew that they knew why she was there.
She grabbed the door to stop her from falling over, and she managed to pull it open and stumble inside. She flicked the light on, groaning and growling in pain. She got to the bathroom and yanked open the cabinet door, digging around for the first aid kit. Once located, she sat down on the toilet seat and ripped the box of bandages open with her teeth.
"Is this a bad time?"
She looked up, part of the box still in her teeth. She spat it out but still didn't say anything. She watched as her oldest brother, Wesley, walked into the bathroom and started assisting her in cleaning the wound. She still said nothing as he started to stitch it up for her.
"Always were a toughie," Wesley commented as he finished up.
"What are you doing here?" she asked him.
"Can't a brother check in on his sister once in a while?" he countered. He looked at her, his blue eyes had concern in them mixed with amusement. His brown hair was buzzed close on the sides with a little bit longer hair on the top of his head.
"You're supposed to lying low," she reminded him. "Dad'll kill you if he knows you're here."
"Pfft," Wes scoffed, waving a hand. "He gets other people to do his dirty work, and I know I can take those goons without batting an eye."
"Colter is one of those goons," she pointed out.
"Exactly."
"Seriously, Wes," Rosie said. "You can't be here."
"It gets awfully exhausting pretending not to exist," Wes told her, resting his arms over his knees as he crouched in front of her. "You would know about that, right?" She sighed. He had a point. She'd left behind the identity of Amelia to become Rosie, but it had caught up with her again anyway.
"To everyone over here, I'm Amelia," she said slowly. "Rosie was just for Montana; I'm basically pretending one or the other doesn't exist depending which name I'm using."
"Yet you're really Rosie," Wes said. "You never wanted to do this kind of life. Why do you stay?"
"What choice do I have? I got ripped away from my family, and I can't go into hiding because they'll just find me again or worse, they'll hurt my family. I'm trapped here, Wes."
"I see."
"Why do you stay?" she asked back.
"Because I've got nothing else."
"Exactly," she said, echoing him.
"It's not the same as trapped," he pointed out.
"Close enough." She leaned back and winced, but at least she wasn't bleeding out anymore. Wes patted his knees and stood up, reaching to squeeze her shoulder as he walked out. She could hear him in the kitchen rummaging for something to eat. He was her favorite, and he knew it. Like all of them, except Carol, he'd gotten into the "family business." He'd gotten hurt on a mission, though, and Zeke had thought it would be better if Wes pretended to be dead. That way, he could pop up and do work without being noticed or hunted for because he'd made a big enemy out of a Russian mobster. The only downside was that Carol believed he was dead, and Rosie had seen how hard her sister had taken it. She felt bad knowing the truth, and she'd almost told Carol a few times before knowing she couldn't in order to keep her safe by deniability.
"Mm, stale pop tarts," he said, chewing on it.
"You're supposed to heat them up," she said irritably.
"Meh," he said with a shrug. Crumbs fell from his lips as he continued eating it. She rolled her eyes and sat on the couch, groaning slightly.
"You keeping an eye on Jessie's kid?" Wes asked after a moment.
"Luke? Yea," Rosie answered. "I feel bad for him. He'll know nothing different."
"I find it funny that Johnny signed up to be a step-dad. He is so not father material."
"Definitely not," Rosie muttered.
"If you want," Wes said slowly. "I can check in on your family for you."
"What?"
"Yea. Dad and Colter aren't watching me like they're watching you. I can slip in and out easily enough. I'll snap some photos here and there and bring them to you...give you updates."
"What will you say if you get caught?"
"That I followed a girl I fancied," he answered with a smirk.
"Of course," Rosie said with a laugh. Her brother was well known to flirt with the ladies.
"Anytime," he said seriously. "I mean it. I'll do it."
"I'd appreciate that," Rosie said. He smiled at her before coming to join her on the couch. He pulled her into a one armed hug, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She was so tired.
"It'll all be alright one day, Rosie," he said. "I promise."
Montana, U.S.
Carol was smiling and laughing as Lance told a story about the goat's latest antics. She knew they both felt a little awkward about this date, but she was enjoying herself all the same. She hoped he was too. He reminded her a little bit of her older brother, Wes. He'd died a bit ago, and she missed him a lot. He was always nicer than Colter, and their father wasn't so hard on him to be a jerk. It was like their father had sensed that Colter had more darkness in him that could be drawn out than the rest of them.
"Well," he said after a moment once his story was finished. "This was really nice."
"It was," she agreed. She watched him fidget with his fingers, and she wondered if he was thinking about Rosie like she was.
"You can say it," she said to him.
"Say what?"
"I feel her presence too."
"Oh." Lance gave a slightly nervous laugh as he shifted in his chair.
"If it's too weird..."
"It's not, but it is," he said. "I don't know how else to explain it."
"I know what you mean."
"I do like you," he said softly. "It's a different kind of feeling than I had for Rosie, but it's still something."
"I'm not her," Carol reminded him. "I don't expect you to feel the same for me like you did for her."
"You're right," Lance agreed. She offered a shy smile, and he reached to take her hand in his. She felt slight tingles, nothing crazy, but there was something there. So they wouldn't have a passionate relationship. She was fine with a comfortable one. She didn't need passion. She just wanted someone to hold her at the end of the day and be there for her, and vice versa.
"I think this could be the start of something good," Lance said, and she smiled a little wider.
"Yes," she agreed. "I think it could be."
1983
Montana, U.S.
Simon was raging. Carol's shins were throbbing after having a stool smashed into them. Her son roared and screamed as his fit went on. She couldn't even remember how it had started. Rita was sitting on the floor off to the side, eyes wide and watching silently. She was going to be three years old soon.
"Simon," Carol said, trying to get his attention. "Luv, you're hurting yourself."
He just screamed again and hurled his cup against the wall. Luckily it was plastic, but the contents still went everywhere.
"Simon, you're scaring your sister," Carol said.
"She's not my sister!" Simon screeched. She pressed her lips together. She and Lance had gotten married two months ago, and Simon had made it very clear that he hated the whole thing. They'd had a simple ceremony at the farm with Kenny and Lucy as witnesses. Simon had taken off at one point, causing Carol to sit with him for thirty minutes to reassure him that she wasn't going to neglect him once she was married. It hadn't really helped.
"Simon, we've gone over this," Carol said wearily.
"NO! She's NOT my sister!"
"Alright, so I'm going to go to the other room while you calm down," Carol said, bending to pick up Rita and walking away.
"I HATE YOU!"
Carol felt the words bounce off of her. She'd heard them so many times before that it meant nothing now. She sat down on her bed with Rita and cuddled her close.
"Thank you for being such a sweet child," she said to her, kissing her head softly. "Your mummy would be proud of you." She didn't want to call herself Rita's mother. She knew she was a step-mother, but still. Rosie was Rita's mother.
"You're welcome," Rita said adorably, making Carol smile. She could hear Simon winding down in the other room. She gave him enough time to be calm before daring to go back out there. She set Rita down back amongst her toys and turned to face him.
He was crying.
"Are you hurt?" she asked him, trying to look for obvious wounds.
"N-N-No."
"Can you tell me why you're so upset?"
"I m-m-miss da-ad," he sobbed. Carol felt her stomach clench. She did not miss Greg, but nevertheless, he was the boy's father. They did have a few good times together. Greg had loved Simon. He hadn't really loved her.
"Aw, honey," she said. "Come here." He walked towards her, and she knelt down to wrap her arms around him. She was hesitant to at first, fearing that he would hit her again, but he didn't. She held him in her arms as he cried, and she started to feel bad for him. He didn't know what to do with his sadness and fear, so he lashed out in anger. She just needed to get him to be able to verbalize what he was feeling, and maybe then they could avoid these tantrums.
"I'm sorry," Simon said, his voice small and muffled against her.
"Just talk to me, Simon," she said, smoothing her hand up and down his back slowly. "All you have to do is tell me what you're feeling."
"I don't know how."
"Let me help you."
"Okay."
He pulled back, sniffing hard and wiping at his face to rid himself of the tears. Then he walked away. Carol had hoped he would maybe say he loved her or didn't mean it when he said he hated her, but he never did. She feared there was something dark and dangerous about her son that was growing every day, and she didn't know how to stop it.
London, U.K.
Jess lay on her side as Johnny got dressed. It was one of those nights when he was sober and in a good mood. When he was like this, he was that charming man she'd first met and fell in love with.
"Good game," he said, smirking at her.
"It was," she agreed. When he was in a good mood, he was a bit more romantic and slower at intimacy.
"I'll take the kid out for a bit," he said.
"He'll like that."
"Why do you say it like that?" Johnny asked, sounding annoyed. She knew she had to steer it back quickly before he fell into a mood. It could happen so quickly.
"He adores you," Jess said with a shrug. "I'm just saying he'll enjoy the time with you."
"Huh," Johnny said, pulling his t-shirt on now. "Alright then."
Jess willed him to come kiss her goodbye, but he didn't. He left the bedroom without a word, and she heard him call for Luke and the sound of excited footsteps soon after. It made her feel sad to know that Luke craved a father figure. She thought about Brendan then. She hadn't been allowed to stay with him. The agency didn't want her to be with someone involved with the SAS. She knew it was because questions would get asked and things would get revealed, and that was not okay. She was told to leave Brendan or he had to be killed.
So she'd left him to save him.
Johnny hadn't been thrilled to get Luke as part of the package, but he'd made an effort in the beginning. She wasn't sure what was happening to him now. He was slowly growing colder and meaner.
She heard Luke chattering excitedly as he left with Johnny. She rolled onto her back and pressed her hands into her eyes. She thought about Amelia. They shared an experience of giving up the one they loved in order to keep them alive, but Amelia had lost her daughter too. She wondered why, but she guessed it was punishment for failing to kill Harry. Jess was relieved that Harry was still alive. He'd been an amazing mentor. For him to question if a target was viable, it made Jess start to wonder how many were innocent that she was killing.
It was something that made her sick to her stomach and something she didn't want to think about.
...
Rosie flipped through the photos Wes had given her the last time he'd met up with her. She looked at her sister in a plain wedding dress smiling at Lance, and she felt her heart clench. Of course, Lance thought Rosie was dead, so why wouldn't he move on? She just hadn't expected him to move on with her sister.
That had been a sucker punch to the throat.
Rosie shifted her attention and looked at her little girl, who was almost three years old now. She was getting so big, and she was beautiful. She ran her thumb across Rita's face and wished she could hold her or hear her voice. She wanted to see her little face scrunch up with laughter and hear her squeal at something that delighted her. She wanted to hear her first words and be there if she hurt herself and cried. She wanted to share stories and teach her about boys and help her plan her wedding.
She could have none of this, and it broke her heart.
Rosie answered her landline and tucked the photographs away as she did so. She was never going to forget Lance and all they'd done together. Never.
"Yes?" she asked.
"You're gonna assist Colter on a job," Zeke said without greeting her.
"Fine. Where?"
"Mumbai. He'll be picking you up shortly It's a long one, so pack accordingly." He hung up, and Rosie set the phone back on the receiver. She didn't do many jobs with her brother. She wasn't overly fond of it. Colter had swagger and was cocky more often than not. She knew that would get him killed one day.
She was packed and ready to go by the time he pounded on her apartment door. He didn't say a word to her as she walked past him after locking her door. He didn't offer to carry one of her bags either. She tossed them into the trunk of his car, and then they were off. She rested her cheek on her hand as she leaned her elbow on the edge of the window.
She missed her family.
Two Months Later
Montana, U.S.
Carol sat there looking at the teacher across from her. She felt like she was in detention, which she'd only ever been in once and had hated every minute of it. She'd only been in there because she'd stuck up for another kid who was getting bullied. Apparently they'd considered that wrong.
"Do you know why you're here, Mrs. Vrataski?" the teacher asked.
"No, Julie," Carol said wearily. "And please, call me Carol."
"Sorry," Julie said. "Carol, something happened with Simon the other day."
"What happened?" She was cringing inside as she waited for the answer. Simon was not getting better with his moods. In fact, he was getting worse.
"He killed the classroom fish," Julie said slowly. Carol felt a bolt of fear go through her.
"He what?" she asked, laughing nervously. "I'm sure it's a mistake..."
"He was standing over the fish tank, and..." Julie trailed off, swallowing. "He just...he had this look on his face, Carol. It...it kind of scared me."
"Oh..."
"Anyway, he was standing there and the fish was on the desk beside the tank dead," Julie went on. "He's claiming he didn't do it, but another student told me they saw him take the fish out and watch it die..."
"How much?" Carol asked.
"What do you mean?"
"How much to replace the fish?"
"Carol, this is a bit more serious than that. I really think..."
"You're taking the word of another student against Simon's," Carol interrupted. "You don't have full proof that he did it."
"Carol..."
"My son is not a psychopath," Carol said, her voice shaking. "He's not a murderer. He wouldn't have done such a thing." She stared down Julie, who was opening and closing her mouth. She eventually nodded slowly.
"Okay, but there have been other incidents where Simon is getting rough with others. I think he'd benefit from talking to somebody."
"Like who?"
"Like a counsellor," Julie said, growing excited. She sensed a crack in Carol's wall and was pulling it open. "I think Simon is having some strong emotions with his father's death and everything, and I think if he had a place to let it out, he might feel better."
"Does the school provide that?"
"Yes. We have a counsellor here."
"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Carol caved. Maybe it would help Simon. Maybe that's all he needed was someone to talk to other than her.
"I will set it up," Julie said, nodding eagerly.
"I'm sorry," Carol blurted.
"It's okay, Carol," Julie said, giving her a reassuring smile. "Everything is going to be just fine." She picked up her phone and dialed the counsellor to set up an appointment. Carol barely heard her talk. She gripped the edge of her skirt tightly and released it slowly, repeating the motion over and over.
If this didn't help Simon, then she didn't know what would.
London, U.K.
Luke was trying to write down the numbers between one and twenty with a frown on his face when his father came home. Johnny sometimes worked as a bartender, but a lot of the times he was gone and working in some other country. Luke was beginning to slowly understand why since his mother was teaching him little things about guns. His father was a hunter of people...bad people...and it was a secret.
"Dad, can you help?" he asked, and Johnny went to peer down at his school book. He could smell the funny odor his father breathed out more often than not. He wondered if that meant a fight would be happening later.
"You missed twelve," Johnny said. Luke saw that he was right and squeezed it in between ten and eleven. He was dreading learning adding, which he was told would be soon. It sounded hard.
"Thank you."
"Where's your mother?"
"In the backyard."
Johnny left, and Luke went to stand by the window after a moment. He watched as Johnny waved his arms around while his mother stood with her arms crossed. There was no hitting this time, thankfully, but Luke still felt worried. He didn't want his mother to get hurt anymore. He wished he knew why his father got so angry.
He hurried back to his chair when Johnny came back to the house. He listened as his father muttered and grumbled while going to the basement. Luke went back to his numbers, trying not to think about the day where his family would blow up for good.
A Few Days Later
Montana, U.S.
Simon had put up a real fight in regards to talking to someone. Carol had eventually gotten him to go by promising he could have an extra hour of TV time afterwards. She'd felt nervous the entire time waiting for the appointment to end. When he exited the room, she got to her feet, her hands in front of her folded together.
"How was it?" she dared to ask.
"It was stupid," Simon answered, walking past her. She felt her heart sink. It wasn't going to help. It appeared that nothing was going to help her son, and that really broke her heart.
...
Lance came out of Rita's room after tucking her in for the night (and a tickle round that had ended in peals of laughter that he lived for), and he found Carol at the kitchen table with her head in her hand and looking upset about something.
"Hey," he said, joining her and reaching to take her hand. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing really," she dismissed.
"Is it Simon?" He knew the boy acted up at times. She'd shared that here and there, but he sometimes felt like there was more to it than that.
"Sort of," she said hesitantly.
"What's going on?"
"A while ago he said he missed his father, so I thought maybe talking to a counsellor about it would help, and he tried it but said it was stupid, so I'm just feeling a little sad that it didn't work out," Carol answered.
"Oh."
"Yea, it was silly," Carol said, waving her hand. "He's a boy. He doesn't want to talk about his feelings."
"Some do."
"I know, but it's not his thing, so..."
"Is he having trouble at school?"
"No," she answered, but something in her voice made him question it. He didn't get those calls or meeting requests. Carol handled everything on that end. He had dropped off or picked up Simon on a few occasions, but now Simon took the bus.
"I'm sorry it didn't work out," he said, not knowing what else to say. She just nodded and smiled at him a little.
"How was your day?" she asked.
"Tiring," he answered. "Andy's keeping me busy."
"That's good, though."
"Yea."
She patted his hand and went to stand up. He watched her drink some water and then go deal with the laundry. He made himself a coffee (he fussed about it enough that Carol just let him do it...he was too particular about his coffee, and he owned it) and went to stand on the front porch. He looked down the driveway and listened to the wind.
Sometimes, he felt like this peace would be shattered without warning, and it terrified him.
...
Simon was angry. He tried to fall asleep but couldn't. He kept thinking about the conversation he and the counsellor had earlier that day.
"Why do you want to hurt people, Simon?"
"Because I want them to hurt as much as I do."
"And why are you hurt?"
"My mother loves Rita more than me."
"Is that the only reason you feel hurt?"
"Mostly."
"What's the other reason?"
"This is stupid."
"Simon..."
"I'm not doing this."
"Simon, please sit and talk..."
Simon never wanted to go back. He didn't want to talk about why he was hurt. His mother should know why he was hurt. Not only had she chosen Rita over him, but she had chosen Lance, too, and she had let his father get killed instead of trying to make things work. It was her fault his father was dead in his mind. Simon could tell his mother was reminded of his father every time she looked at him. It was all over her face, not to mention the fact she avoided looking at him to begin with. If she thought he was a horrible person, why not act like one? And the other reason he liked to hurt people and animals was because he liked being in control of the suffering. It made the pain of being unwanted more tolerable.
It made him feel closer to his father.
He'd come home feeling bitter for being made to talk, and when his mother wasn't looking, he'd shoved Rita down. She'd yelped, and he'd made sure he was out of the room when his mother came to investigate. Obviously his so called sister hadn't told on him because his mother never punished him for it. He hated Rita. She took all of his mother's attention. His new goal was to make his mother pay, and to do that, he would inflict pain on Rita since she was so precious to her. Maybe that would teach her a lesson.
With this thought in mind, he finally rolled over and fell asleep.
London, U.K.
"Dad," Luke said, trying to get Johnny's attention. He felt the stab inside as he looked at the boy. It was hard to look at him most of the time.
He was the same age as the first boy he'd been ordered to kill.
"What?" Johnny asked gruffly, trying to stuff down the memory: the crying and screaming and then the silence. Oh God, that silence had deafened him. That and the sight of the little body afterwards...it made him so sick. He'd never told Jess about it, but he knew she could see the change in him, how angry he'd gotten...how much more he drank and lashed out. He had a lot of sleepless nights and guilt over what he'd done. Zeke had said the boy would become a terrorist like his father one day, that they were doing preventative measures, and Johnny had believed him.
Now, he wondered if perhaps Zeke had been wrong, but you didn't dare say that out loud...not if you valued your life or your loved ones' lives.
And because he'd done it before, he was expected to do it again. Johnny had three kids on his conscience, and it was killing him.
"Will you play with me?" Luke asked hopefully. Johnny stared at him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to play. He didn't remember his childhood. He remembered a lot of pain and anger, but he didn't remember much fun or happiness, except some moments as a teenager with Colter and Jess. He wouldn't be here doing this line of work if he had. He was pretty confident about that.
"Not today," he answered, turning away. He didn't want to see the boy's face fall in disappointment. Johnny reached to grip his hair tightly as he finished scribbling down his notes for his next target. In the beginning, he'd thought he could be a father, that he could enjoy having a step-son, but now...now he knew he had to push Luke away in order to not feel pain if he lost him. The kid had to be viewed as a trainee and a trainee only. It was just better that way.
And he didn't deserve the love of a child anyway.
Days Later
Safe House, Mumbai
Rosie didn't talk to Colter much on their mission in Mumbai. They went over the logistics together and carried it out together, but that was the most of it. It had been a long one, and Rosie was ready to have some space between her and her brother again.
They were currently sitting in the safe house wrapping up and getting ready to go. Rosie looked over at him and noticed him looking at a small photograph.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Nothing," he answered, tucking the photo away.
"No way," she said, making him look at her finally.
"Huh?"
"You have a family," she said, incredulous. He made a face.
"No..."
"Liar!" she exclaimed, going over to him and reaching for the photo. He fought her off, but she was quicker. She pinched it and moved away to look at it. A black haired woman with dark eyes smiled back at her, a dark brown haired boy in her arms. The boy's eyes were his father's. He looked to be about two in that photo. She turned it over and read the date. 1977. So Rita's cousin was three years older than her.
"Give it," Colter snapped, snatching it back from her and putting it away. She ground her jaw as she looked at him.
"So you get to have a family," she said bitterly.
"Not really," Colter replied hotly.
"Um, the picture says otherwise," she said, gesturing.
"I don't see them," Colter said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this is the last photo I have of them," Colter said. He moved away from her then, starting to shut down. Rosie watched him carefully.
"You had to give them up," she confirmed.
"It was my choice," he said. "I didn't want her to worry about me constantly, and..." He trailed off.
"You didn't want our father to ever use her or your son against you," Rosie reasoned.
"Yea."
"How did you meet her?" Rosie asked, curious. Colter fidgeted slightly. "Colter?"
"I ran into her while looking for you," he answered. "It was just supposed to be a one night thing, but then I...I got hooked."
"See? It happens," Rosie said smugly.
"She wasn't my target," he shot back. "Big difference."
"Whatever," she dismissed. "So you fell in love. That's hard to believe."
"I'm not always an asshole," Colter reasoned, and Rosie sucked her teeth as she surveyed him. A long time ago, this was very true.
"Maybe not," she agreed. "But 90 percent of the time you are."
"I'm not arguing," he said, scoffing.
"So, you knew where I was for three years," Rosie commented, putting it together. "Why didn't you bring me in sooner?" She had an idea. Colter always struggled with being rotten to his sisters, but despite knowing that, it still hurt her and Carol when he was.
"I didn't want to leave her," Colter answered. "I never told Dad I was in Montana frequently to see her. Hell, he doesn't even know about her or my son. I let on I was searching in other places."
"Then Johnny found me," Rosie said. "And you had to give it all up." She was feeling surprised. Her brother had let her have a normal life for three extra years.
"Yea," Colter said, sighing.
"That's why you're extra pissed at me," she noted.
"Maybe."
"Does she think you're dead?"
"No. I just broke her heart," Colter answered. "She's already moved on anyway. She had another kid with the new guy." He went to zip up his bags and get ready to leave. Rosie followed suit, feeling a little sorry for her brother but not entirely. She thought it was amusing that Rita had another cousin in Montana, one she would never know about.
"What's his name?" Rosie asked, curious as they walked out together. Colter looked back at her briefly before opening the car door.
"Whose name?"
"Your son?"
"Oh, it's Vincent. Vince for short, or Vinny."
"Hm," Rosie said, nodding her head. "Maybe he'll meet Rita one day."
"Who?"
"My daughter," Rosie said pointedly, lifting a brow.
"Right. Whatever. Maybe."
She sighed. He was back to being an indifferent asshole again. That didn't take long.
1984
Montana, U.S.
Carol was scribbling in her journal when she heard Lance come home. She closed it immediately, not wanting him to read it. She'd continued writing about Simon's behavioral issues, although she didn't know why. What was she trying to do, leave evidence behind that she was a terrible mother? She didn't know how to help her son, and he didn't show any indication of trying to stop what he was doing. He still had tantrums and explosions of anger. He would hurt other kids and lie about it. Carol had made excuses for him a lot, and in the beginning she had bought his lies. She didn't now. He was good at lying, but she was better at figuring it out now.
She put her journal away and was setting the table when Lance came inside.
"DADDY!" Rita shouted, running from wherever she'd been playing. Carol smiled as the little girl threw herself into Lance's arms. He picked her up and swung her around, making her shriek with laughter. Then he tucked her under his arm with her head facing behind him.
"Has anyone seen Rita?" he asked, turning from side to side. Rita continued to giggle. She loved this game.
"Not me," Carol said.
"She must be invisible then," Lance mused. He did an exaggerated walk around the kitchen, pretending to look for Rita. He opened cupboard doors and checked the fridge. Rita was full out laughing now.
"I can hear her," Lance said, swinging around. Carol smiled at Rita's giggly face. "Where are you, Rita?"
"I'm here!" Rita called, kicking her legs.
"She's getting louder," Lance said, looking at Carol. "I think she's getting closer."
"Daddy, I'm here!"
Lance swung hard to the left and then the right, making Rita laugh harder. Then he looked over his shoulder in the hallway mirror and gasped dramatically.
"There she is!" he exclaimed. Rita waved at him in the mirror, and he moved her around so that he was holding her with one arm on his hip.
"Did you miss me?" Rita asked.
"Always," he answered, kissing her forehead. "You're getting heavy, luv. You're growing up too fast."
"I'll stay little forever," Rita promised. "For you."
"I wish," Lance said, looking a little sad almost. He set her down, and she went to wash her hands for dinner as per Carol's instructions. Simon came in after a moment and sank into the chair at the table.
"Hello," Lance said to him after Simon ignored him.
"Whatever," Simon said.
"Simon!" Carol admonished.
"I got it," Lance said, going over to the boy. He leaned his arm on the table, looking at Simon. "What happened at school today?"
"Nothing," Simon answered.
"I heard you did well on a math test."
"Big deal," Simon said with a shrug.
"Well, that's great," Lance went on, still trying. "Good job."
"I don't care, so you shouldn't either," Simon said, sounding a bit aggravated now. Carol felt nervous as she watched the interaction. Lance had tried a lot to connect with Simon, but her son was not having it.
"Well, I do, so...sorry about that," Lance said. He patted the table and straightened, looking at Carol. "I'm gonna change and wash up and I'll be down."
"Okay."
Carol pulled out the meat from the oven and set it on the cutting board. She got Rita situated in her chair next and then poured milk for Rita and Simon and water for Lance and herself. She was glad that Lance did not drink a lot, just the occasional glass of whiskey or a beer or two with Kenny a couple times a month. She didn't want a repeat of Greg.
Carol tried to feel like a family as they ate dinner together, but she kept looking at her son and feeling like he was going to pull away even further as time went on. She worried that he was going to do something to someone eventually that would get him in serious trouble.
Sometimes she wished she had told Lance about all of this, but then she felt relieved she hadn't because she didn't want Lance to stop trying to bond with him if he knew how bad Simon could get. It might be an irrational fear, but it was there nonetheless.
Maybe one day she'd tell him.
...
Simon hated Lance. The man kept trying to bond with him, and he had zero interest in responding. He'd had a father already. He didn't want another one. He inflicted pain on those who hurt him in ways that didn't get him caught most of the time. Some of the other kids he hurt would tell on him, but his mother talked around it when confronted. It was a classic "he said, she said" type of scenario anyway, and he knew she didn't want him to be isolated from the other kids.
He'd started bullying Rita slowly. He knew she'd never tell because he'd threatened to bury her alive. She understood that concept, especially after he'd shown her what happened when he buried a squirrel alive. He'd maimed the squirrel first so it couldn't get away. He knew she would be too scared to tell anyone what he was doing to her. It felt good to get out his anger towards his mother through her. It was almost better than actually hitting his mother.
And he never lost sleep over it.
London, U.K.
Colter went up the stairs two at a time, and he rounded the corner at the top sharply, avoiding the person coming down the stairs. He went into his father's office and closed the door behind him. Zeke was sitting in his chair with his feet on his desk, chewing on a pen and frowning at the small book in his hands.
"You wanted to see me?" Colter prompted when his father ignored him for the first fifteen seconds of his entering.
"What is that thing that people do as a group with the singing?" Zeke asked around the pen in his mouth.
"What?"
"You know, the singing group," he said again, flicking his wrist.
"A cappella?" Colter said, lifting a brow and wondering why the hell his father wanted to know about it.
"Yes! Thank you," Zeke said, taking the pen out of his mouth and writing in the book. His father was doing a crossword puzzle, Colter realized. He resisted snorting in amusement.
"You just saved me another twenty minutes of annoyance," Zeke said, dropping the book and pen on the desk.
"Glad I could help. What did you want?" Colter asked, getting back to the point.
"You have an update for me on Luke Wright? Is his mother holding up her end of the deal?"
"As far as I know," Colter answered. "She's started officially training him."
"Good. Amelia? Still staying away from Montana?"
"Yep," Colter answered.
"Excellent. Now, I've got a job for you. Johnny's already been briefed. He's waiting downstairs for you."
"Alright." Colter took the file his father was holding out to him. He did a few jobs with Johnny in a given year. They were a tight team, and he liked it.
"Colter?" Zeke called when he was at the door. He turned to face his father.
"Yea?"
"When the time is right, you'll be able to bring my granddaughter to me?" Zeke questioned. Colter felt a slight dropping sensation in his stomach. His father kept asking him this question randomly, as if he knew Colter wasn't really up for it. Dealing with Harry wouldn't bother him, but bringing in the girl...he didn't think he could do it. He could still hear his sister's pleading him to leave them alone.
"Of course," he answered, knowing that's what he was supposed to say.
"If I know Harry, he'll train her. Let him do the hard work. We'll pick her up and take him out when the time is right."
"Alright."
"That's all," Zeke said, picking his crossword book up again. Colter opened the door and stepped out into the hallway again. He left the door half open before walking away. His mind was whirling as he went down the stairs to meet Johnny. As much as he tried not to care about Amelia, he did a little. He'd never told his father about Carol's son, but if the boy was anything like his father, then there was probably a good chance the boy was going to check off all the boxes to be an assassin.
"How's it going?" Johnny asked, standing up once Colter approached him.
"Swell," Colter answered, shifting the file in his hand to the other. They walked outside together, and Johnny shoved his hands into his jacket pocket after a while. Colter started to flip through the file's contents while watching his step.
"Seems pretty easy," Johnny commented, nodding towards the file.
"Mmhmm," Colter agreed nonverbally. It was one of those rare targets where the arms dealer was a woman, but he knew they existed. He was honestly surprised there weren't more women criminals. They'd be hiding in plain sight since most people assumed all bad guys were actually guys.
He got into his car with Johnny climbing into the passenger seat. They were going to be flying to France later that day. As he drove, Colter started to think about his own son and how grateful he was that his father had no idea he existed. There was no chance of him being forced into this career by Zeke.
Colter still sometimes wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn't been programmed to be a killer since the day he was born.
1985
Montana, U.S.
Lance couldn't stop worrying about Rita. Her bright smile wasn't as constant as it used to be, and he couldn't stop thinking about her flinching from him when he went to hug her after dropping her off at school for her first day. He'd watched her carefully around the house, and nothing seemed amiss, so he couldn't figure out what was making her behave that way.
"What's wrong?" Carol asked, setting a plate down in front of him on the table. He'd gotten home late that night, having worked overtime on a truck that was needed for the next day for a company business. Lance never minded working late at times if needed. It was something his boss greatly appreciated.
"Have you noticed if Rita's been a little more skittish lately?" he asked. He watched Carol's face carefully, but it betrayed nothing if she was hiding something.
"She's been a little withdrawn," Carol agreed.
"Do you think we're missing something? She flinches if you touch her unexpectedly," Lance went on. Carol ran her fingers back and forth on the edge of the table for a moment before answering.
"I'll pay more attention," she said. Lance nodded. She squeezed his shoulder fondly and went about her business. He ate slowly, still wondering what could be making his daughter so on edge.
...
Simon looked up when his mother came into his room. He lowered his comic, sensing she was going to ask him a serious question based on the expression of her face. She sat on the end of his bed and leaned a hand in front of her to hold herself up, her eyes boring into his.
"I'm going to ask you a serious question," she said, "and I want a serious answer. No lies."
"Okay," he said, feeling slightly disarmed.
"Are you hurting Rita?" she asked. Simon held his face in check, still holding her gaze and not daring to even blink. He had to be very careful here, but he knew she wasn't too bad at figuring out when he was lying.
"No," he answered. "I'm not. Why? Is she hurt? Who would hurt her? She can't even defend herself."
His mother sat there watching him, and he did his best to look genuinely concerned for Rita's wellbeing. He was about to crack when she sighed and patted his leg.
"I don't know," she said, "but I'm going to find out. Can you please look out for her at school?"
"I will, Mum," he promised. She gave a tired smile and finally stood to leave. Simon let out a heavy breath and felt his heart racing. That had been too close.
He was gonna have to be extra careful moving forward now.
London, U.K.
Rosie watched Jess from afar, observing how she was teaching Luke to be a killer. The boy was eight years old. It made her heart ache at the craziness of this. She glanced at the folder on the seat next to her. She was to give Jess a job, and she tried not to worry that Jess was going to take her son along with her to do it. She knew all about Jess's history. She'd been nine when she landed in Antonio's foster home. He'd started to train her, and at 11, before she joined Zeke's special team training, Jess had gone to deliver a "package" to a target under the guise of being a girl scout. Rosie had been surprised. After all, she hadn't been sent out to do a mission until she was 17, but her father had his reasons for things, and she'd never questioned them.
Until Harry.
A sharp pain emanated through her as she thought about her husband. She knew he was Carol's husband now, but she couldn't stop thinking of him that way. She gave her head a shake and got out of her car when she saw Jess getting ready to leave after her run with Luke.
She approached slowly, and Jess noticed her before too long. She could see the wariness in the woman's eyes, and she knew that Jess had mixed feelings about her. It was ironic since they shared the same situation, and Rosie wondered if Jess felt guilty that she got to keep her son whereas Rosie had to give up her daughter.
"Amelia," Jess said.
"Jess."
"You have a job for me?" Right to the point. Rosie appreciated that about Jess sometimes.
"Yes, I do."
"So give it to me."
Rosie looked at her, and she could see the defensiveness in Jess's eyes. She didn't want judgment about training her son. Rosie handed her the file without a word. Jess took it and gave her a dismissive type of look in return. Rosie turned and walked away, leaving them behind her.
She couldn't stop thinking that in another life, she and Jess would probably be friends. Their children might have grown up together and fallen in love. How different everything could have been.
1986
Montana, U.S.
Lance tried not to feel bad about leaving Rita behind as he took Simon on a fishing trip. His little girl had danced around and begged and pleaded while giving him her biggest eyes she could, and he'd had to firmly tell her this was a boys only trip. He didn't tell her that he was trying to bond with a boy who hated him.
This was the impression that Lance had of Simon. He'd done his best to be encouraging, to give compliments and guidance, and to be supportive, but Simon did nothing but scoff and pull away. Carol had the idea of trying to do something special just the two of them, so Lance thought he'd give fishing a try since Simon had spoken of a boy from his school who had gone on such a trip and caught so many fish.
"Beautiful day," Lance commented. They were anchored in a small bay in a small tin boat. A bucket of worms was in the middle, and Simon was perched at the nose of the boat as far away from Lance as he could get.
"Yep," Simon replied, not looking at him. His hat was pulled low to keep the sun off of him. Carol had slathered him with sunscreen before he'd left. Lance was wishing he'd put some on himself as he felt his ears start to burn a little. He watched Simon reel in his worm to check it and then cast it out again. Lance had no idea what to say to him. It felt like anything he said was wrong, and he felt like even if it was right, Simon would never let on it was.
"Thanks for coming with me today," he said after a while. He mentally chastised himself. Was he an idiot?
"Sure," Simon said back, shrugging.
"Is there anything you'd like to do together someday?" Lance plowed on. "Something that you like?" He could see Simon thinking about it. He held his breath. Was he possibly going to get more than a one word answer?
"I'd like to do target practice," he said finally. "Maybe I could go hunting with you."
Hunting. Using a gun. As much as it flagged red in Lance's mind, he knew it could be a good bonding experience.
"Alright," he agreed. "But we start you off nice and easy."
"Okay."
Lance resisted smiling hugely at the sound of slight enthusiasm in Simon's voice. Maybe they could bond after all. Maybe they just needed the right activity to bring them closer. Lance would never train him to be an assassin, but they could hunt together. It would be good. Everything would be fine.
He suddenly stopped worrying and felt like he'd finally had a breakthrough. Perhaps there really was hope after all.
I know it's a bit focused more on the OCs and Simon's slow rise to becoming Alex right now since I'm filling in the blanks a bit from Part I, but that will shift and change the older Rita and Luke get and you'll have full chapters mostly focused on them, I promise. This whole series is their love story after all :)
Also, I have way too much stuff I've written for past chapters and don't want to cut stuff, so they're gonna be nice and long chapters for the most part. I hope y'all are okay with that ;)