There was something wrong. It wasn't concrete, it was barely even an idea, but something was just... not right.

Wrong was more than a person, place, thing or action, it was a feeling. A feeling buried deep within an organization that Michael Archer had thought to be Right. His intuition was beginning to fail him in his old age. Hell, he even had his first chiropractor appointment for when he returned to the States.

But after what he had discovered recently, he knew he'd probably never make it back.

After dedicating his life to uncovering the truth, he couldn't be too mad about being killed for doing just that. He had a duty in life and he'd be damned if he went out doing anything other than that. He wasn't a soldier or a general, he wasn't a thief or a mercenary- he could barely throw a punch without whimpering because of bruised knuckles. Nonetheless, Michael Archer had a role within this vast world of Right and Wrong.

If he was going to die, he was going to die having helped carry on his legacy.

Legacy...

It was a concept he'd been toying with while writing his last Will and Testaments on an old flip phone text message.

Michael Archer liked to believe he lived a long and fulfilling life. He had a plentiful career, he was financially stable, and he got to see his beautiful baby girl flourish into a remarkable young woman.

As Michael left his final message to his daughter within the confinements of a small run-down room rented out from the Afghan family running a cleaner shop beneath him, he could feel the weight bearing down on his shoulders slowly lift knowing his daughter would be well taken care of when he was gone. He knew what he was asking of her would be difficult and challenging, but he knew without a doubt she'd know what to do.

That was what Legacy was. Passing on his passion and his work to the girl following close in his footsteps mapped out in the sand.

Carefully, Michael Archer sealed the last of his evidence within a well-secured envelope and made sure to clear his schedule for the rest of his day to head down to his PO box later. They still only knew about his flat here, it would be too late once They figured out what he'd sent his daughter in his last day on Earth.

Once he finished his task for the day, he remembered to check his laptop clock- set ten hours backwards. It was almost about to be eight pm in New York. His daughter would be getting off the subway right now and headed back to her apartment.

Michael spared a glance at the small array of printed out photos on his make-shift work area beside his laptop. A little strawberry blonde with a toothy smile grinned back at him, frozen in place holding a first-place trophy for her fifth grade spelling bee. Another photo beside it of the same girl, a few years older and her hair a few shades darker, plating a kiss on his cheek as the point of the cap on her head pushed into his forehead at her college graduation.

He could feel the tears prickling at the edges of his wrinkled eyes. He didn't have much time left, but she'd have all the time in the world once his sacrifice was proven worth it.

Michael could tell himself he was doing this for the greater good all he wanted, but in reality, he knew who he was doing this for: Her.

When he came back from dropping off his sealed package with the mail boy that passed by occasionally, Michael trekked back upstairs to his desk.

His laptop began to chime as a name popped up on his Skype app- Jamie. At eight fifteen, she was right on time every other day for their call. Michael quickly wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to make-face and keep her from suspecting anything. If she was going to stay out of danger, she had to believe this was an accident.

He put up a strong front and answered the call.

He was met by his daughter's sharp chin as her face was pointed towards something above the screen. This was a phone call type of night, the occasional thing that would happen in the case that she wasn't able to make it home from work due to a heavy load or breaking story. She was busy. He couldn't fault her for it though, it wasn't like she knew that this was going to be the last time they would speak to each other.

"No, Margot- you cannot make edible brownies in the break room," Michael chuckled at his daughter whisper-scolding her old-time friend and former college roommate in the background of their call. "This is my job, not the community kitchen at Brittany Hall. Put it down." There was a shuffle followed by Jamie glancing back down at her screen. "Sorry, Dad! Just, uh, Margot being Margot," she grimaced.

"Hey, Papa Mike!" A girlish voice off-camera shouted to him.

"Hi, Margot. Hi, honey," Michael grinned back. Oh, how he was grateful that Jamie would have someone who would support her when he was gone. She would be taken care of. He hated to think she would be alone after his death.

"Hey, Dad, I'm really sorry," Jamie frowned, her eyebrow furrowing in genuine Jamie fashion whenever she felt bad about something. "I got held up at the Globe. My piece is coming out tonight and there are just a few papers I need to verify with my editor, but I somehow managed to lose them somewhere in my office-"

"Bean-"

"-Margot and Logan are here helping me, but we haven't found them yet and I'm just freaking out-"

"Bean!"

Jamie seemed to snap out of her brief rant to pause and take a breath, just like he taught her. She smiled slightly at his use of her old pet name he gave her when she was just a toddler.

"Take a breath. Take a break. Clear your mind," he urged her, a shared sentiment the two shared was their bad habits of working themselves to the core- which tended to bring heavy waves of panic and self-doubt. He tried his best to pass down lessons he learned before she hit rock bottom and figured them out for himself.

He hoped he'd done well enough that she'd never become as bitter and jaded as he had in this line of work, never let that spark of eagerness and excitement in her eyes fade.

"You'll find them, Bean," Michael reassured his daughter.

Jamie nodded. "You're right. You're right," she muttered. "I'm just nervous. This is my first big break with the Globe. I don't want to leave any stone unturned or end up with a libel lawsuit or get blacklisted by the NYPD PIO or-"

Michael rolled his eyes knowingly. This was why he and Claire never needed a DNA test to tell this was his kid. Well, that and the fact that their daughter had inherited his mom's vibrant auburn hair. "Jamie..."

"Right! Sorry, sorry, sorry," she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"You don't have to apologize, Beanie," Michael reassured her. "You can get through this. Just keep your head up and know whether there are mistakes or not, you still have the rest of your life to try again and again." He hoped the quality of the video camera hid the way his voice began to hitch up near the end of his statement. He didn't want her to think anything of it and thankfully she missed it.

She took a deep breath and replaced her panicked look with a bittersweet smile. "Thanks, Dad. I don't know where I'd be without you..."

There it was.

Oh, God- he wished she hadn't said something so sweet and something so painful. He didn't want to leave her so soon in her life. She really did have the rest of her life and he'd only get to see a fraction. He could imagine it now: Jamie's first house, getting to see her walk on a stage to accept her Pulitzer, her name on the byline of a New York Times article, a beautiful engagement ring on her finger and the smile on her face as he walked her down an aisle. He wanted to be there for it all, but it was a fruitless future that would never get to exist if he didn't make this sacrifice for her.

"Without me? Pfft-" Michael scoffed, trying to keep the sorrow out of his voice. "You'd still be hanging up stars and weaving galaxies with your bare hands. Love you to the moon and back, kiddo." He had to hold his breath to keep himself from breaking down into sobs.

Jamie beamed, unaware of the grim future that awaited her once she hung up this Skype call. "Love you around Saturn's rings, Dad."

"I'll see you soon," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He'd blame it on poor connection.

"Okay!" she chuckled. "Hey, Dad- one more thing. I'm thinking of booking tickets to Boston for Thanksgiving. Do you think you'll be back by then?"

Oh, how it broke his heart to hear how eager she sounded for a trip home. He would have loved to live out the rest of his days surrounded by breezy afternoons and pollen-filled summers in the Boston suburbs. He'd have to settle for the scorching Afghanistan desert, thousands of miles away from the light of his life.

"I, uh, don't think so, kiddo," he let her down gently. "Why don't you save that money and stay with Margot and Parker for Thanksgiving? I don't want you to be alone." Please, his eyes silently begged through the screen.

Jamie, albeit disappointed, shrugged. "I guess. Logan already said his foster siblings aren't returning his calls so maybe it'd be better if we had a New York holiday season this year..." That's my girl, Michael grinned. Always finding a solution when things didn't go her way. And here she was looking for every crack and flaw in her work as if anything could keep her down for long.

"Love you, Jamie. And, hey, maybe indulge Margot's little craving," he winked into the camera.

Jamie immediately flushed, even through the screen he could see her skin brighten under the fluorescent lights in her office. Michael could also hear Margot- and who he assumed to be Jamie's newest roommate- snort in the background.

"Thanks, Mr. Archer!"

Margot could hardly contain her laughter and Jamie was already jumping on her case.

"Margot- no!" Jamie nearly dropped her phone in an attempt to catch up to her friend off-camera. "Instigating little- Dad, I'll call you later." He could tell his daughter was scolding him, but it was hard to take her seriously when she laughed at every word.

This was it. Michael wanted to pour a million words out to her. Tell her how much he loved her. How much he wished he could have done for her. How he'd hang the sun and the stars just to see her smile one last time. How being her father saved him in more ways than she could ever imagine...

"Bye, Bean."

"B-Bye, Dad!" Jamie managed make out through her endless giggles.

And that was when he ended the call. He did. A small action, but he didn't want her to carry a guilt like being the one to hang up first.

"Bye, Bean..." Michael uttered through the tears he'd been holding in since the call began. His reflection stared back at him through the dark end call screen on his laptop. "I love you." Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

There was a shift in the air and Michael let go of the breath he'd been holding in.

The air shifted.

And then it was set aflame.

Michael felt the heat touch his skin for a millisecond and the thrum of the explosion echo through his bones.

Then it all went black. It was like all his senses faded away. No taste. No smell. No sight. No sound. No touch.

Nothing.

Just him.

And the darkness. It was quiet in here.

Nothing.

Bye, Dad!