This entry is next in my journal, after The Sargent rescued me, and I passed out. It is below freezing, in the empty unlighted room, my shallow breaths creating thin white plumes in the air. My muscles shriek for me to stretch, move, but I remain, as I have for the last four hours, still. The icy wind, blowing through the hole I cut in the windows glass howls in my ears. The last of the suns light, reflects off of the golden, onion shaped, domes of the buildings on the horizon. The lights of the city begin winking to life. But I keep my eye pressed to the scope, watching the front doors of the exclusive hotel, twelve stories below. I have practiced the assembly and dismantling of the compact gas powered, rifle, and it’s firing characteristics, until I know I will not miss. I patiently wait for my target to emerge. The limousine appears on the slush covered street, gliding like a black torpedo, headed west. It pulls to the curb in front of the hotel. The driver exits, opening the back passenger door. I flex the fingers of my right hand, restoring circulation, and feeling. I watch the hotel door. I do not blink. The door opens, and two men, dressed in dark coats, emerge, rapidly moving down the buildings four front steps, to take positions on the sidewalk. They scan the streets. They are the bodyguards. A third guard exits, and holds the door open. The target steps through, flanked by a fourth guard. “You have eighteen seconds.” ticks my mind. But there is something wrong. He grins as he begins the short walk to the car. In his arms, wearing a white fur coat and matching hat, he carries a girl, about six years old. She smiles happily back at him, from her porcelain little doll’s face. He was supposed to be alone. “You have thirteen seconds.” I will abort, find another opportunity. I still have till the morning. “You have ten seconds. There are no more opportunities. Take the shot.” “But the girl…” He is nearing the safety of the car. “You have seven seconds. Failure means death. It’s his life or yours. Take the shot.” I squeeze the trigger until it clicks. I hear the burp, and feel the hiccup of the gun, as the gas discharges, and it silently fires. I watch through the scope, as the fragmenting round makes contact. The targets head is instantly surrounded by a mist of red. His arms fly out, as the girl falls to land on the snowy sidewalk. The target drops, the bodyguards scramble to him, drawing their weapons, looking for the shooter. I should already be gone, but I watch the girl. She is scooped up by one of the guards, rushing to get her to the car. Her white coat, and hat, now pink; her pale face is dappled with the targets blood, her eyes filled with terror and tears. She thrashes in the guards arms, her hands groping the air, reaching for the targets body. One shot, two victims. I cannot hear her, but her mouth is open, screaming, her lips forming one word over, and over. Papa… Papa… Papa… “No!” I sprang upright, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Where was I? Someone grabbed my shoulders. Instinctively, I brought my hands together in front of my chest, and pushed out, breaking the hold. I drew back to strike. “Easy kiddo, easy.” The voice stopped me cold. I focused, looking around me. I was in my quarters. There was my desk, my computer, my overflowing bookrack. Tag sat next to me on my bunk. Was this real? I checked myself over. The blood, and blue smock were gone, I was dressed in a white tee, and my pajama bottoms. I lifted my eyes to Tag’s face again, afraid it wouldn’t be there, but it was. He smiled, trying to hide the concern that filled his gray eyes. It was really him. He was only forty two, but his hair had gone prematurely silver, ten years ago. The scar that bisected his left eyebrow was the only visible reminder of the chopper explosion that had ended his special op’s career, and almost his life. The rest were covered by his black fatigues. His wiry six foot frame rested easily on the edge of my small bed. Every cell of my body, wanted me to fling myself at him, throw my arms around his neck, and cling to him for dear life. I wanted to crawl inside of him, let him absorb me somehow, keep me safe. But physical affection wasn’t our style, hadn’t been since I’d taken the field. I just sat gazing at him, relieved. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “Better, now.” I answered. He brushed my bangs back; my muscles relaxing with the reassuring reality of his touch. “Here, get this in you. Its cold, just the way you like it.” He handed me a quart sized bottle of my food. I opened, and greedily downed almost half of it, the ache in my belly, starting to subside. I wiped my mouth, embarrassed, at my lousy manners. “How long was I out?” I asked. “Three hours, give or take.” “How did I …?” I started “The Sergeant brought you to me. I got you cleaned up.” I didn’t know what the Sergeant had said to him, but I had to tell him the truth, about what I had done. “I have to be honest with you. There’s something going wrong with me, up here.” I pointed to my head. “The Sergeant said the detour you took was rough, that you ran into some trouble.” “It wasn’t a detour. I… I ran.” His expression didn’t change. “He also told me you saved a boy’s life.” “Did you hear what I said? I ran Tag! I cracked! I almost got us both killed! If it weren’t for the Sergeant…” “It doesn’t matter.” “It does matter! I’m a liability now, I’m …!” “The subject is closed.” He cut me off again, He was shutting me down. I pleaded with him one last time. “Please Tag, you have to…!” “I’ll be off base most of the day tomorrow. I have a meeting to work out the details of our new assignment.” I could only stare at him. Oh God! Why wouldn’t he listen to me? I couldn’t handle another assignment, not now, not ever. It was like he was in complete frickin denial. He didn’t want to hear that I was burnt out, useless, that I couldn’t hack it anymore. And that I would prefer a slow agonizing death, to another mission. He wanted to pretend that everything was a-ok, business as usual. I felt more alone at that moment, than I ever had in my life. My little malignant voice had been right. I was going to get myself killed next time out. It was going to end just like I always thought it would. I couldn’t take another mission. I was toast. But, I would have to try, for his sake, hang on as long as I could. If I got myself slaughtered on the job, at least he’d be safe from retribution. I tried to listen to what he was telling me, be his good little soldier. Maybe I could make it through, one more time, I tried to tell myself. But, inside, I just wanted to die. “Are you paying attention?” he asked. I pulled myself together a little, tried to act normally, but I had no clue what that was anymore. “Yes…yes Sir.” “As I said, this list contains the names of seventy three cities, on the North American continent. You’ve been to most of them. The ones you’re unfamiliar with you can research on the web.” He handed me a printed sheet, the names listed alphabetically. I stared at it blankly, then at him, my will to live slowly ebbing away. “You’re homework, is to narrow the list down to ten.” he finished. I thought I must have zoned out, and missed the details. I had no idea what he wanted me to do. “Narrow? Based on what criteria Sir?” “Well, that’s your call. You have to decide where we’re going to live after next week.” It was as if he’d spoken in ancient Aramaic. He couldn’t have said what I thought I’d heard. I looked into his solemn face. “Come again, Sir?” “As of this moment, Project Snowflake has been decommissioned. And you are officially discharged. That’s what the meeting's about kiddo.” He smiled at me, as I sat like a dim bulb, gaping back at him. I was a deer in the headlights. “You made it kiddo, congratulations.” I had stopped breathing, as my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest. “If this is a joke, just tell me, I won’t be…” I began. “No joke, it’s over.” He said, trying to convince me. “I was going to explode. “It’s really over? I’m… I’m…?” I couldn’t say the word. He patted my hand, leaving his to rest on top of it. He leaned closer, forcing eye contact with me. “Free, yes, you are.” His eyes, his voice were telling me the truth. It’s hard to describe how I felt at that instant. Imagine, every wish, every dream, every hope, you’ve ever had, coming true all at the same time. Or hanging from a ledge, knowing you were about to fall to a certain, and gruesome death, then, being pulled to safety, just as your weakening grip fails. That’s as close as I can come. I heard my own breathing. I sounded like a dog panting, as I tried to swallow the frickin softball that had sprung up in my throat. My eyes stung, like when I wore the contacts for too long. My body was trying to disintegrate into a weepy, blubbery, quivering blob of tears, and spewing snot, but I wouldn’t let it. Tag had just handed my life back to me; I wasn’t going to disrespect him by going all “mush girl” on him. I fought to maintain, resisting that urge again, to jump on him, and cling. I just sat there, grinning like an idiot, listening to him. My cheeks started to cramp, but I didn’t care. “I’ve got to get the details set, and iron out our new identities, and backgrounds. I told them to set us up as father and daughter. I hope that’s okay with you. I figured it would be easier to get you enrolled in school. I was thinking, one for gifted kids, or performing arts, something like that, but it’s your choice. ” Father and daughter. I had never realized the power in those words before, the connection they carried. I just nodded yes. If I had opened my mouth I would have fallen apart. Then, something overwhelmingly sad, crept into his clear eyes. He looked away for a second or two. I heard her whisper, somewhere deep down in her box. “Uh oh, here comes the punch line.” her voice bristled with pessimistic sarcasm. He turned back to me. I hadn’t noticed till I saw that sorrow there, how tired, and old, he was beginning to look. It cut like a knife. “I would give anything… anything, if I could have made things different for you. You deserved so much more. I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. I wish I had been there for you, when you needed me.” What was it the Tin Man said to Dorothy? “Now I know I have a heart, because it’s breaking.” I couldn’t bear seeing him suffer like that. He blamed, no hated himself, because he couldn’t protect me. The guilt, and regret, in his eyes, was worse punishment than anything she had ever wished on him. I couldn’t take it away, but I could tell him a truth. “But, you were. You’re the only reason I ever came back.” His eyes went shiny, and I saw him swallow hard. He looked away again quickly. I wasn’t going to make it. There was an ocean pressing behind my eyes, and the softball, in my throat, had grown into a basketball. “Thank you for that.” He said his voice hushed. “I wont cry, I wont cry, I wont cry, I kept telling myself, like a cheerleader whose team is getting beaten, a thousand, to absolute frickin zero. I was Harriett hard ass, until Tag broke protocol, and broke me. He reached out and grabbed me, pulling me close to him, pressing my head against his chest. I went all tense, and defensive, not knowing how to react. Usually I just killed people who touched me. Then I listened to his heart, his breathing; smelled his scent, Old Spice, mouthwash, starch, and my arms flew around him, with a life of their own. I was careful not to hurt him. It was totally awkward, embarrassing, and childish, and the most human I had felt, in forever. This was what it was like to not be alone, to be wanted, and to be loved. Father and daughter, the words kept repeating in my head. Then one hot droplet, spilled from my right eye. I followed its course as it ran down my cheek, under my jaw then trickled down my throat. It ran beneath the collar of my tee, and I lost track of it, of everything, but us.