A/N: I guess this could be for Spitfire week… I guess…? Haha, yeah I don't really know who dubbed it Spitfire week or anything, but I'm enjoying it. Spitfire 24/7 is something I adore in these hard times.

Anyways, here's the latest chapter of "Who I Am". And yeah, I wanted to write it this way. Sorry if you hate the style, but I like the way I did this even if it took twice as long.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own the song nor any of the characters.

In The End

It was only supposed to be a job.

"Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four."

It's just a job...

"Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven."

Now he's covered in blood. Oh God...

"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine."

Just a job.

It was only after I'd shot him that I remember everything. After. The arrow left my fingertips and now I regret releasing it.

"Thirty."

He's still not breathing. He's still bleeding. I still remember. How I shot him. Only a minute and thirteen seconds ago. Blood seeps between my fingers. His blood. Oh God, what have I done?

"Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four."

The memories come in flashes. It all comes back to haunt you in the end; that's the way it is.

I remember the day we met in the desert. Before I could remember who he was. When he held my hand. When I loved him for the first time.

I remember the day he truly smiled at me for the first time. I remember when I thought there might be something there. Something more than a fight, something more than friendship. The first day I saw him. The first day I saw the real thing.

"Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight."

More blood stains my hands scarlet.

I remember the first day he kissed me. I remember when he looked at me like a girl he could care about. A girl he could love. He saw me. Just like I saw him.

His blood is all over me. My arrow is still in his chest.

"Thirty-nine, forty."

I remember the day he promised me forever. The day he whispered that he loved me. That day seems like a millennium ago. He told me he loved me. He told me... he loved me...

I remember when told him my secret. That my father was a criminal, a member of the League of Shadows. He didn't mind. I told him I was once part of the Shadows. He didn't mind. I told him I loved him. He kissed away all my worries.

"Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three."

It's so bloody...

"Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven."

That damn arrow...

"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three."

This stupid job...

"Fifty-four, fifty-five."

It was just supposed to be a stupid job...

"Fifty-six."

Why don't I have an arrow that can save a life?

"Fifty-seven."

I'm losing hope.

"Fifty-eight."

I remember when he asked me if I liked being an assassin, if I ever considered going back. I told him I never would. I promised him. He wrapped me in his arms and told ms he loved me. Over and over again.

It's just a job...

"Fifty-nine."

I want him to wake up.

"Sixty."

I remember the day I broke that promise. The day I killed my father. Because my father wanted to kill him. And it felt good.

"Sixty-one, sixty-two."

I remember how I told him I killed my father. He was afraid. Fear flashed in his eyes. But he said nothing. He told me everything would be okay. He kissed my worries away. That was almost all he was good for. Making me feel better.

"Sixty-three, sixty-four."

It's just a damn job.

But there's so much blood.

I'm going to Hell. I'm going to Hell.

"Sixty-five, sixty-six."

Why am I even trying?

"Sixty-seven."

I remember the exact moment I told him I was going back to the Shadows. I told him. And he dumped the ring on the table and left. He wouldn't turn me in. He wouldn't tell anyone. He still cared too much.

"Sixty-eight."

And maybe I still care too.

"Sixty-nine."

I'm an assassin again. He knew this. My target was supposed to be simple. My target was the guy in the suit. The only guy in the suit. Overdressed but still looking incredible. Assassins don't get details. An assignment. Pay. That's all we need.

"Seventy."

His heartbeat was gone at thirty-four. I know this. I pull my arrow out of his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Wally."

A/N: Dramatic. I loved writing this. I don't know why. The counting is for doing CPR, I think. I don't know how to do it, but it built suspense in my mind so whatever. Reviews are love!

~Sky