A/N: John's getting himself some answers in a heated exchange.

Ch 14: Old Goat

"She's still crying you know."

That voice.

It's almost as ominous as the one's from my dreams, my memories. I snap to attention, my eyes on the figure in the doorway. The Stranger. Her words hit me with a delay. I'm ramped up for a fight in 3 seconds, but suddenly feel like someone's sucker punched me. For a moment I'm speechless.

"He said you were a such a sweetheart -not a heartbreaker. Who have you become Captain MacTavish?"

I get my bearings. Maybe this time she's here to kill me.

"Who the hell sent you?"

"Oh, how you wound me Captain. Such harsh language." The Stranger mocks.
"I've come to deliver a message from a mutual friend of ours. I'm not here to incite an altercation."

"I don't trust you."

"Nor should you have reason to."

The Stranger flicks out an envelope from inside her lapel as quick as a switchblade, and holds it out pinched between her index and middle finger. She's smart enough to keep out of my reactionary distance. Before I accept it, I take a closer look at the bold ring on her finger. It's the sigil. The sea goat. 'Don't mind the old goat, you know how stubborn they can be.' It kind of makes sense now.

"You're the old goat he was referring to?" I warily grasp the edge of the envelope and pull it from her hold. It looks to be the same like the first one.

"He called me old?! I'm going to have a few choice words with him. I prefer Capricorn." She laughs, and it's a cutting sound. The shadow of a Holocaust survivor's nightmare.

Her answer is still ambiguous.

"Capricorn?" I feel like I'm grasping at straws. She probably knows it too.

"I've gone by so many names I don't remember my real one. But that one…that one I fancy myself best."

"Who's your handler?" I'm onto her, she's no ordinary hired gun, nor a courier. She's a spy. But for who is a better question. In the age of technology, they were dying breed. Anyone is espionage knows that some of the best kept secrets are still reserved for quiet dinners and pillow talk. An antique technique. A vanishing art.

"I'd have to kill you if I told you."

"I might have to kill you if you don't." This prompts her to snort out a chuckle.

"Threaten me again and I'll cut an eye out for good measure. I'm glad to see you have so much spirit left in you."

"Who is your handler?" I enunciated each work to make a point.

"I go where the lines blur. I can assure you though, we fight for the same cause."

Not necessarily a foe, not necessarily a friend either. Not going to give a straight answer regardless. Even if she did, she'd probably be lying. I start tearing open the envelope cautiously. I never take my eyes off her. My contact on the other side obviously trusted her enough to give her a written note and send her off into the wild blue yonder in hopes of finding me. And she did. This Capricorn was obviously good at her job. Maybe too good.

Inside the envelope is another folded piece of paper. I take my eyes off the Stranger only for a moment to read the contents.

The hunt for Kingfish is coming to an end, he's run out of places to hide. Sound the trumpets. Wish you were here. Imagine the look on his face if he saw you. When things settle down, we'll find you.

With love,
-N

Kingfish. Makarov. That prick was still alive. And he was in their sights. Only the one-four-one had that kind of tenacity. I hold the letter out, pointing to the moniker at the end.

"Who's this?"

"Since it's obvious that you're still living in the shadows, I'll give you this one. That's our good friend Nikolai." She shifts her weight to the other leg, and there's a sympathetic change in her tone.
"He never once gave up on you. Believe me, he had to dig hard to find me again. He dug even harder to find you."

Nikolai. I don't even think that was his own name. It was just the callsign he's used since I've met the plucky Russian. One of the craziest pilots I've met. A good wingman too.

"How do you know him?"

"Nik and I go way back. I was in the information business long before he was born. I met him on the front lines when he was young strapping solider, like yourself."

She's older like I thought. Never thought the Russians would get in bed with the Germans. Then again, I remember Nikolai being a strong advocate against the Iron Curtain politics. And no German wanted Russia meddling in their country's business again.

"Can you get a message out?"

"I expected you wanted as much. Make it quick. I have a boat to catch."

I scribble directly on the back of the envelope.

-
See you on the other side.
2073521

I hand it off. Before I let her take it, I yank it back. There's so much I want to ask her.

"Who else knows about me? About this?"

Capricorn rolls her eyes and sighs. For her, this is all just a game. She's a big fish in a little pond -and not in the traditional sense. She's an apex predator. Maybe even a sleeper agent.

"Myself, Nik. That charming nurse of yours. Your buddy Whitney's in the same situation as you. Couple of you around here like that actually, falling between the cracks. There isn't much that gets off this island, especially not past these walls. I make sure of that."

Not afraid to silence songbirds. Has me wondering how many people's throats she already opened to keep them quiet. What the hell was going on out there? I offer the envelope and let her take it from me this time.

"Snitches get stiches?" I remember Chad using the phrase recently. Americans had their own colorful language, and it tends to rub off when you hang around them long enough. Capricorn holds a single finger up to her mouth, using the universal sign for 'silence.' The tip of her finger is pointing directly to the notched scar on her upper lip. The rules applied to her too.

"And end up in ditches. Or, they have a tendency to find their way on the bottom of the Atlantic. I'm just saying, hypothetically of course."

The Stranger tucks the envelope into her jacket. There's a holster hanging off her right hip. Yet she always leads with her left. Ambidextrous? Something to note for later, in case I need to go hands on with her if she does decide to make a move on my life. Before she goes, I pry for more information.

"How will I get in contact with you?"

"You don't. I'll find you. Hau rein, Kapitän." Capricorn offers her left hand for a friendly shake. Yet from her tense poise I see she's ready to draw with her right. Her grip is strong, firm, her release quick.

Just like, she was gone, as quickly as she had came.

A/N: The number I have John sign with the ID number from his dog tags. To any ordinary person, it's a string of numbers, but to his good friends and allies, they'd understand the significance.